


Where Once Was Light

by OrmondSacker



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Post-Break Up, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Therapy, yes this fic covers both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: To piece your life back together after traumatic events are hard, piecing them together after returning from the dead even harder. And hardest of all is it to do so alone, but sometimes that's the only path open to you.





	1. Break Away From Me

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some time after If Memory Serves and spins off from canon from the end of that episode. Or maybe earlier as it seems Discovery has never been on the run. Or maybe Hugh was just too busy trying to keep himself and his life together to notice.
> 
> I promise I'll deliver on that happy ending, but it'll take us a while to get there. And it'll get a lot sadder before it gets better.
> 
> Edit: Because I realized some of this might sound wrong to some. I don't hate Paul and he's not being as mean as he seems to be in this. It's just that he's being very Paul and right now he and Hugh is an embodiment of miscommunication and lack of communication.

“Do you think you’re ready for it?” captain Pike asks him. 

“If you’re asking if I think I can do my job, then yes I do,” Hugh answers. 

He can feel the captain’s cool, grey eyes evaluating him. Pike is seated leisurely on the couch of his ready room. Hugh elected to stand when he came to see him to be cleared for duty, something he now wonders if was a mistake. 

“And there’ll be no... conflict of interests for you?” 

Hugh can hear the question Pike is asking beneath his question, “if you have to treat specialist Tyler can you do that?” 

“I’m a professional captain, my personal feelings have never figured into my treatment of a patient. Nor will they ever.” 

Pike nods slowly, his eyes running over Hugh. The gaze is relaxed, almost serenely detached and viscerally reminds him of icy blue eyes studying him. Bitterly he pushes the memory aside and focuses on the captain again. 

“Okay, I’ll clear you for duty. On one condition.” 

“What?” 

“You schedule an appointment with dr Thelthaa zh'Vhari, the ship’s therapist. If she clears you, I’ll clear you.” 

That should be something he could manage and the wave of relief that floods him is almost palatable. 

“Agreed.” 

 

Dr zh’Vhari office is located on two decks above the residential area of the ship, on the same deck as the mess and the recreational areas. He’s walked past it to and from those places countless of times, but he’s never knocked on the door. Until now. 

The appointed waiting room right beyond is small but decorated in a way to clearly make it feel warm and welcoming, from the rugs on the floor, taking away the sharp sound of heels on metal when one walks across it, over the art on the walls to the chairs that are comfortable reclining chairs rather than standard issue Starfleet ones. 

The room is empty and the door to the office beyond closed. Unsure what to do with himself Hugh sits down on one of the chairs. 

Paul would love them. Comfortable, soft, a seat you could lounge in. Just his thing. 

Hugh ferociously pushes the thought away. Paul’s like and dislikes isn’t his concern anymore. Never again. 

The door to the inner office opens and Hugh sees dr zh’Vhari follow one of the ensigns from engineering, a short, stout, redheaded man, out. He gives the Andorian doctor a smile and nods briefly towards Hugh before leaving. 

Then dr zh’Vhari turns to him. She has reddish brown eyes, and her skin is a lighter blue than Hugh can recall ever having seen on an Andorian before.  

 _Aenar_ _ancestry_ _?_  

“Doctor Culber, I’ve been expecting you.”  

She holds out her hand in greeting and he takes it. 

“Yes I could imagine that captain Pike told you he sent me down here.” 

“The captain did notify me, yes.” 

As a doctor Hugh have over the years learned to read between the lines very well, to hear the silences, what is not being said, and there’s definitely something zh’Vhari isn’t saying. That she had expected him long before Pike sent him. 

“So here I am,” is all Hugh says in return. If she expects answers of him, she’s going to have to ask the questions out loud. 

“Indeed. If you’ll come through.” 

The office space beyond isn’t much larger than the waiting room, but appointed in the same comfortable manner, but with an added desk with chairs. 

“Where would you like to sit?” zh’Vhari asks. 

He looks from the desk to the armchairs. 

“I get a choice?” 

“Of course. None of this will do much good if the patient is uncomfortable. I thought as a doctor you’d understand that. Some prefer an informal setting, others that things be kept more strictly. I try best I can to accommodate all people.” 

“Thanks, then I’ll take the formal, professional option if you don’t mind, doctor zh’Vhari.” 

“Of course.”  

She gestures towards the table and they sit. 

“So,” Hugh asks. “How do we do this?” 

“Why do you want to return to duty?” 

“What kind of question is that?” 

“A good one I should think. Why do you want your old job back?” 

“Any reason I shouldn’t?” 

“Do you always answer a question with a question?” 

“Do you?” 

“What are you afraid of dr Culber?” The question is asked, rapid and sharp, like a whiplash. 

The abruptness with which the gloves comes off throws him off balance. 

“Nothing.” 

Dr zh’Vhari slowly tilts her head as she looks at him. 

 _Stupid answer. Stupid, stupid answer._  

“Dr Culber, I understand that you’re not here of your own free will but only because you were ordered to. You want to return to duty, it’s my job to find out if you’re fit for that. You said that you wanted to keep this professional, then let's keep it that way. I assume that you as a doctor can appreciate the need to arrive at an accurate diagnosis, even when the patient doesn’t want to hear it, for the good of everyone?” 

Hugh nods tersely. 

“That’s what I’m here to do. And not just for the ship’s sake, the crew’s, but for yours as well.” 

He looks at her. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Could you live with having done harm professionally?” 

“You’re inferring I’m dangerous.” 

“I’m asking you. Are you dangerous, dr Culber?” 

Rattled by the change of track and the bluntness of the question, Hugh grapples for an answer. 

“I don’t think I am.” 

“But theoretically you could be?” 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” 

“What if you received a patient that you’d have difficulties treating due to personal reasons?” 

“Such as specialist Tyler you mean?” 

“As an example, yes. Let’s take him.” 

“I would... excuse myself?” 

“And if you couldn’t?” 

Hugh lets out a long, shaky breath. 

“I don’t know. I’d like to think I’d try to do the best job I could and not let my personal feelings interfere. But in some cases... I just can’t give you an answer to that.” 

“Which leads me back to my original question. Why do you want your old job back? If you’re not certain that you can fulfill it?” 

“Because, I need to be useful. Because, I need to start rebuilding my life and a doctor is something I’ve always been, and want to continue to be. Because there are people who are going to need a doctor and I’m good at what I do.” 

“Even if you know you might not be able to treat every patient objectively?” 

“Yes. But can any doctor fully claim that about themselves? At all times? Won’t personal biases and feelings always risk interfering?” 

“A very good question indeed. Another one for you, what do you think of your current situation?” 

“You’re going to have to narrow that down dr zh’Vhari. My ‘current situation’ is a rather broad subject.” 

“Coming back from the dead? Narrow enough for you?” 

Hugh can’t help feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He’s always liked pushy and this woman takes no prisoners. That and the ability to keep a distance, a professional distance, makes him stop and think, to give her an honest answer. 

“Frustrated, confused, lost, trying to regain my bearings. That’s partially what this is, me trying to regain my bearings.” 

“And you think going back to being a doctor will help you rebuild your old life?” 

“No.” Hugh shakes his head. “That, is gone. The old Hugh, he’s gone as well. None of it is coming back. I’m trying to create something new.” 

“By going back?” 

“I know that seems inconsistent.” 

“I’m less interested in inconsistencies and more in why this specific thing is so important to you. You could have chosen a thousand different things to do, yet the first thing you chose to request was to get back in medical uniform. Why?” 

Hugh presses his hands flatly together, palm against palm, and presses the finger tips against his lips. 

“Dr zh’Vhari, do you believe in god? Or goddess, singular or plural, doesn’t matter. Do you believe?” 

“I don’t think my spiritual convictions or lack of them matters in this context, dr Culber.” 

“You’re right, they don’t. Not really. I was just... trying to get a point of reference. I don’t. Believe in god. I never did. I never could reconcile the history of the galaxy, of Earth, with the existence of any kind of supreme being guiding the world. Or even lesser divinities. Of course, that means that there’s nothing but us, that all we have are each other. And all that we can do, is help each other. Does that answer your question?” 

“How do you intended to help others, if you can’t help yourself?” 

“How can I help myself if I can’t help others?” 

She nods. 

“This is more out of curiosity. But if there is no god, how do you explain your own resurrection?” 

“The absence of god doesn’t mean the absence of a soul. Or something that we for the lack of a better word could call a soul. An energy that moves us, shapes us and that we shape into a certain form, and that – theoretically – could survive death. With all the wonders we’ve found in the galaxy and the millions more out there we can still find, this doesn’t sound so fantastic does it? Only this is a wonder we’re so used to, which is so pedestrian to us, that we normally don’t think about it.” 

“Sounds like you’ve given this some considerable thought?” 

“I’ve had, some time to think about it, yes.” 

“Sorry, that was a tangent. I’m as prone to curiosity as anyone. Though I usually can restrain myself on my patients’ behalves.” 

Her attempt to disarm and assuage is as obvious as it is effective and Hugh feels his guard slip a little lower, making him all the less prepared for her next question. 

“You’re in a relationship with lieutenant commander Stamets?” 

The words are like a punch in his gut.  

The bastard, the absolute  _bastard_.  

Not so much as one word had he said when he walked out on Hugh after the fight in the mess. Not a word later either, and when Hugh had managed to put himself enough together to go back to Paul’s quarters it had been to find his things neatly boxed and Paul nowhere in sight. 

Well he could take a hint and the hint couldn’t have been clearer, that if wouldn’t play on Paul’s terms he could leave. 

So he had gathered his things and requested private quarters. He hadn’t even seen Paul since despite the size of the ship. But apparently Paul couldn’t even do the minimum of changing their ship’s records. 

“How is that-” 

“No,” Hugh interrupts. 

“Pardon?” 

“I mean, no. I’m... not in a relationship.” 

Dr zh’Vhari politely raises one eyebrow. 

“We broke it off,” Hugh says, struggling to keep his voice calm. “I just... hadn’t gotten around to changing the records yet. And I guess, neither have Paul.” 

“Breaking up on top of everything else can’t have been easy?” 

He almost starts laughing hysterically at that. 

“Maybe not, but sometimes a relationship doesn’t survive big transformations. Sometimes, everything is better for that.” 

“You believe that is the case here.” 

 _No. Yes._  

“Time will tell I suppose.” 

“I see.” 

She puts down her stylus and leans back in her chair. 

“Do you know what my job entails, dr Culber?” 

“You’re the ship’s psychiatrist, I can make some guesses.” 

“I’m in the business of helping people find the correct building manuals, when their lives fall apart. Whether it be a case of reconstruction, or building something entirely new. But all I can do is give them the manuals, they’re the ones who’re going to have to do the actual building.” 

“I don’t really follow.” 

“I don’t expect you to. Yet. Very well dr Culber, I’ll clear you for duty. On one condition.” 

The once again abrupt change of track makes him feel like he’s losing his footing, but the feeling recedes quickly for relief at her words. 

“I seem to be getting my fair share of those today. Okay, what.” 

“We schedule a weekly meeting, every week, until I’m satisfied you no longer need them. Can you agree to this? We can talk about whatever you want. Music, literature, politics, your life, the topic is entirely up to you as long as you show up.” 

“If that’s how I can get back to work, then I guess I can live with it. But can I ask why? 

“In case you ever find yourself in need of building instructions.” 


	2. Where My Demons Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The even moderately attentive reader will notice conspicuous amounts of similarities between this chapter and s1E10, Despite Yourself. That’s entirely intentional. 
> 
> This is also the lowest point for Hugh, at least for an entire chapter’s worth of time. From the end of this chapter forward it’s much more a mix of good and bad between each other. Recovery after all is a nonlinear process.

The uniform jacket is not a comfortable fit, the collar feels like it’s chocking him. He’d blame the replicator but it has his precise measurements, the jacket is as good a fit as ever. It’s his skin that doesn’t fit. 

There are fewer stares when he walks to sickbay than he’s used to getting, or perhaps he’s just getting better at ignoring them now. The ones he receives once he arrives at his destination are less so. 

“Hugh. It’s good to see you back on duty again,” Tracy Pollard greets him, smiling broadly, distracting him from the stares the two nurses are sending him. 

“Tracy.” He leans down and accept the hug she offers him. “I guess I’m an old warhorse, can’t refuse the call of the bugle when it sounds.” 

He wants to say it’s good to be back, but he can’t. And he never could lie to her. 

 

It is odd how quickly it is possible to settle into a routine. Getting up in the morning, showering, eating breakfast, showing up for his shift, lunch, dinner, bedtime. But then, regular habits have been the go-to coping mechanism for humanity since time immemorial. 

Work as well. The routine examinations, pedestrian jobs, treating burns and cuts and sore throats, all the everyday and undramatic parts of the medical profession, even on board a Starfleet starship, creates their own rhythm. 

Connecting with others are harder. Though not only Tracy but the two nurses repeatedly tries to pull him back into their social circle, Hugh finds it a struggle to speak with anyone in a non-professional setting for more than a minute or two, mundane conversation felt pointless and grates on his nerves.  

Still as the days pass, he builds some semblance of a life, of order in the chaos, small bits of normalcy in a world that feels to him as if it has lost all rhyme and reason. 

 

Hugh slowly clicks through the patient’s reports from the night that’s passed, to see if there’s anything that needs following up. Technically it’s a job for one of the nurses, but he needs this quiet time at the start of the day, a way of decompressing before being faced with others. So both Pollard, and the nurses Callahan and Jadin leaves him to it. 

The quiet, close confines of the office space make him feel he can relax, gives him room to breathe, while still letting him have a look at the sickbay through the separating window in case he’s needed. 

Movement out there catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. Pollard steps forward from one of the examination beds to meet captain Pike who’s just stepped in. She looks irately between the captain and someone behind him that is still hidden from view by the wall. The captain’s face in turn is serious. 

Tracy Pollard has a quick tongue, but she’s also one of the most mild-mannered people Hugh has ever known, one of the traits that led to their close friendship before his death. Anything that can make her look cross is something to worry about indeed. 

The captain spots him through the window and turns to make his way to the office, when Pollard steps around him and cuts him off, shaking her head furiously at him. 

So it’s him the captain wants and whatever it is for, clearly something Tracy doesn’t like, but he can’t let her get into trouble with the captain, whatever it is. For all that he’s changed he still likes her, and he has come to appreciate her attempts to connect with him as he is, not as he once was. Though it isn’t easy for either of them. 

The instant he steps out the door he freezes. Just inside the door to the corridor stands Ash Tyler, his body tense and his face covered by a thin film of perspiration, flanked by two security officers. 

“Doctor Culber, just the man I came to see,” Pike says affably. 

Tracy turns around and looks at Hugh, there’s not just anger but pain in her eyes too. It makes him want to hug her and tell it’ll be fine. 

“Hugh, you don’t need to do this.” 

“Doctor Pollard-” There’s a note of flint in Pike’s voice. Better head this one off. 

“It’s alright, Tracy. I’ll deal with them.” 

She exhales slowly. 

“If you say so. The medical cabinets need sorting, I’ll go look at them. If you need me, just shout.” 

“Thank you.” 

Pike follows her with his gaze until she’s disappeared through the door out before looking back at Hugh. 

“Doctor Culber, I have a task for you and I don't think you’ll like it.” 

Hugh pointedly looks at the door Tracy just disappeared through, then Tyler, before looking back at Pike. 

“I already don’t like it.” 

“Yeah, unfortunately it’s necessary. Can we step into the office for a moment? There’s a certain need of discretion.” 

Hugh almost tells him that any chance of him being discreet went out the window when he decided to bully Tracy, but antagonizing the captain doesn’t seem like the wisest move. Instead Hugh gestures to the door into the office. 

Only the two of them step in there, Pike gesturing to the security officers to stay outside. Tyler remains standing between them. 

Is he under arrest? But if so, why is he here and not in the brig? If he needs medical treatment it’s easier and safer to summon a doctor to the brig, than bring a prisoner to the sickbay, generally speaking. None of this makes sense. 

Pike takes one of the chairs at the table, pulls it out and sits on it looking up at Hugh who remains standing. It’s becoming a tradition, he’d hate to break it. 

“We, I, have a problem.” 

Hugh says nothing. 

“There is a possibility that Section 31 have... compromised specialist Tyler’s mind.” 

“Compromised?” 

“He may have been acting out orders while not being aware of what he’s doing.” 

A cold feeling settles in Hugh’s stomach and his heart start thudding painfully against his breastbone. 

“And you need me to determine whether or not that’s true,” Hugh says, his voice sounding breathless in his ears. 

“Yes. More precisely I need you to do a bioneural polarization scan on him.” 

_What_ _!_  

Hugh blinks. This is something he could imagine Lorca having ordered. Pike? He doesn’t know him but from how the crews talks about him it is out of character. 

“Captain, are you aware of the implication or that request and what such an examination entail?” 

“Yes, specialist Tyler explained. It’s his idea.” 

Surprising. Few would voluntarily subject themselves to such as scan, much less suggest it. No wonder Tyler looked so uncomfortable. 

“That’s why I’m asking you, doctor Culber,” Pike goes on. “In spite of the... conflicts. You’re a neurologist and I’ve looked up your record, it’s impressive. Few in the Federation is more qualified, none of them are currently on board the Discovery. I don’t ask this lightly.” 

Hugh swallows. Part of him had intended humor Pike, hear him out, then ask Tracy to take over, but there’s no chance of that now. Even on a wiling subject this kind of examination is in an ethical grey area and on an unwilling one it could only be counted as torture. He can’t ask her to make that kind of choice, or live with the consequences if it goes wrong, an all too real possibility. 

“I need to speak to specialist Tyler.” 

“Certai-” 

“Alone.” 

“No. I’m afraid that won’t be possible, doctor Culber.” 

“It very much will be, captain.” 

“Doctor, considering your shared past...” 

“Captain, you’re asking me to perform an examination that’s questionable ethically, I need to know that specialist Tyler knows what he’s getting into and am willing to face it.” 

“I told you it was his suggestion.” 

“So you did. I still need to talk to him.” 

“Do you really think I would do something like that, without his consent?” 

“Do I have cause to, captain?” 

“I  _am_ the captain.” 

“Yes, and you’re in a sickbay. Frankly sir, in here my degree supersedes your rank.” 

Their eyes lock, steel grey against dark brown. Hugh can almost see the thoughts popping through Pike’s head, the possibilities he imagining of this going wrong by leaving the two of them alone. Still in end, he nods. 

“Okay. But we’ll be right outside.” 

Hugh frowns. 

Was that a threat, or an offer of protection? And if so, was it for him or Tyler? 

Pike gets up and waves Tyler inside before leaving. As the door slides shut, Hugh can see him take up position right outside alongside the two security officers. 

Tyler wavers uncertainly right inside the door, his body so tense Hugh can almost see him vibrating with it. 

“Sit,” Hugh says and points to the chair Pike just vacated. Tyler sits down tentatively, staring at his hands. Hugh can’t make his own stop shaking so he clasps them tightly behind his back. 

“Captain Pike said you suggested that a bioneural polarization scan be done to determine if... you’re in your right frame of mind, is that correct?” 

Tyler nods, not looking up. 

“And do you know what that examination entails? That it puts the subject in a semi catatonic state for the duration of it?” 

“Yes!” Tyler barks, his eyes snapping to Hugh’s face and away again. “Yes, I know, I understand.” 

“So you willingly subjects yourself to this?” 

“I do. Can we just do this?” 

Hugh leans back against the desk, perching on its edge, while he folds his arms across his chest. 

“You know, I always thought that someone who worked for a shadowy organization such as Section 31 would be better at lying.” 

Finally, Tyler looks up and meets his gaze squarely, eyes burning intensely. 

“I’m not lying.” 

“You’re clearly uncomfortable and I refuse to do this to someone who’s unwilling.” 

Tyler smiles bitterly. 

“Even me?” 

Hugh bites back a snarl. 

_What the hell kind of person do you take me for?_  

“Yes, specialist Tyler, even you,” he spits out. 

He gets off the table’s edge and heads for the door. Tyler leaps to his feet and Hugh spins to meet him, pulse racing, throat tight. Tyler steps back, hands up, a lost expression on his face. 

“I’m sorry, doctor, I didn’t mean- I just, please, I need-” He takes another two steps back, creating greater distance between them and Hugh forces himself to straighten and relax. Whatever is happening, Tyler does not have the posture of a man who’s a threat. 

_He didn’t the last time either_ , a cold voice whispers in the back of Hugh’s mind. 

“What do you need, specialist Tyler?” His voice is a metallic echo in his own ears. 

“We need to know if... Section 31 have done something to my mind. This is the only kind of examination that’ll dig deep enough that we can be sure.” 

“I will not do this to an unwilling person.” 

“I’m not. I know it won’t be pleasant, but it’s nothing compared to what I face every night in my dreams.” 

“That sounds like a good reason for never sleeping again.” 

“Yeah.” 

Decades worth of medical practice, of treating patients for everything from common colds over bone fractures to highly infectious diseases asserts itself in spite of the stress of the situation, or maybe because of it and Hugh finds himself asking, “Have you considered medication-” 

“No. I mean, yes I have, but no. I need to stay in control of myself.” 

Hugh nods. 

“Okay, if it’s not the examination, then what is it?” 

Tyler shakes his head. 

“You don’t want to hear this.” 

Hugh takes another deep breath, steadying himself. 

“As a man, you’re probably right. I’m likely the last person on board who wants to hear this. But I’m also a doctor and right now I’m a doctor who’s being asked to do something he finds morally questionable. That doctor needs information. So, talk to me.” 

For long moments Tyler simply looks at him, then he nods. 

“If they did do something to me, then it’s possible that the examination itself could... trigger something? Like... you know. So you’ll need to restrain me, you of all should be able to understand that, and... I have... bad memories, of being restrained.” 

“Sedation could be an alternative.” 

Tyler shakes his head and Hugh see a flash of visceral fear in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry doctor, but no.” 

“Why not?” 

“I told you, I need to stay in control of myself. If there’s... something in there-” Tyler’s voice breaks. “That’s why I’m doing it, to know that I’m myself.” 

Hugh just looks at him for the longest time, Tyler finally meeting his eyes frankly. Then Hugh nods slowly, turns and walk out into the examination room. 

“Congratulations captain, you’re getting your wish. And since two gorillas have apparently scared everyone else off, they can help me set up.” 

 

Running the last calibration of the scanner, Hugh studies Tyler out of the corner of his eye. He’s is sitting uncertainly on the examination table, trying hard to ignore the security restraints on it. 

The sickbay is empty except for the two of them and Pike, everyone else sent away on Hugh’s insistence. The last thing that’s needed for this, is an audience. 

Hugh keeps staring at the computer screen. The scanner, the equipment, is as ready as it’ll ever be. The reluctance is in him. 

“Doctor Culber?” Tyler asks, perhaps sensing something. 

Hugh swallows. 

“We’re ready. Last chance to reconsider.” 

Tyler shakes his head. 

“I need this.” 

“Then I’m going to have to ask you to lie down.” He turns to Pike. “There’s no reason for you to stay.” 

“Maybe not, but I still am.” 

Shrugging Hugh steps up to the examination table where Tyler is already lying down, his body screaming with tension. 

One by one Hugh closes the restraints, tight enough that there’ll be no give making it harder for Tyler to get leverage to tear free if the worst comes to pass, but no more than that, while painfully aware of Tyler’s confused glance and the weight of the captain’s eyes. 

Tyler’s body jumps the moment Hugh begins the scan. Hugh feels himself freeze, sweat prickling his palms and spikes of adrenalin piercing his bloodstream. But it’s only a response to the alteration in Tyler’s state of mind. Hugh watches as the man’s body changes erratically between tension and relaxation, the sensory confusion, the tearing away of all that they call reality to be replaced with something made out of dreams and nightmares, something he can all too well understand what feels like. 

He tears away his gaze from Tyler’s body, forces it to focus on the data on the screen. 

“How much longer?”  

Pike’s voice is uneven and when Hugh turns, he can see the ill-disguised discomfort written all over the man’s face. 

_You had no idea, did you? What you asked, what Tyler asked?_  

He has no answer that the captain wants to hear, so all he says as he turns his attention back to the screen is, “As long as it takes”. 

“Nothing is worth this.” 

Hugh looks at him again, meeting his gaze, knowing implicitly the gulch that separates them. 

_You have never been lost, have you? So, lost you will do anything for even the chance of answers, of peace._  

The words are there, on his tongue, but he knows the pointlessness of them. Pike will never understand. So he turns away again, the whir and hum of the equipment is deafening to him in the silent room. 

Pike is nothing if not stubborn, Hugh will grant him that, because in spite of his discomfort he stays through, watching the catatonic Tyler while maintaining his distance. Hugh can feel his eyes constantly on his back and a flare of irrational anger rise inside him, but rather than turn back and face the captain he looks down at Tyler again. The man’s face is covered in sweat, tears or both, his jaw locked tightly, breath harsh gasp between grinding teeth. 

Impulsively Hugh reaches out and puts a hand on Tyler’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. 

“Not much longer now, specialist Tyler,” he says. 

He doesn’t know if the jerk of Tyler’s head is an indication his words have been heard, or a reaction to whatever is happening inside Tyler’s head, he can only hope. 

 

Scan done, the droning whir finally silent, Hugh lets the equipment begin to crunch the data it's acquired and goes to Tyler’s side and begins to undo the restraints though the man has not yet recovered from his catatonic state. 

“Is that-” Pike begin to ask. Hugh, less than eager for questions or being second guessed, shoots him an angry glance, silencing him. 

Freed of the restraints Tyler lies unmoving on the examination table, chest heaving as he breathes. Knowing there’s nothing he can do to speed up his return to his senses Hugh just places a hand on his shoulder again until Tyler begins to stir. 

The beep of the computer lets him know that its processing is done. He picks up the datapadd and pulls up the result, all too aware of not just captain Pike’s expectant eyes, but those of the now sitting Tyler’s. 

His eyes go over the result once, twice, before looking up. 

“I hope you both appreciate the difficulty in proving a negative?” Hugh says. “Nothing.” 

He hands the padd to Tyler. Though he questions how much of the results the man will understand, sometimes seeing with your own eyes helps believing. 

“Nothing,” he repeats, feeling a hollowness spread inside him. “No Section 31, no nothing. Just specialist Ash Tyler. With another person’s memories.” 

Pike turns to Tyler. 

“It seems I owe you an apology.” 

Tyler shakes his head. 

“No captain.” 

Something passes between the two men as Tyler slowly slides off the table, but Hugh can’t bring himself to care. All he can feel is indescribable weariness bearing down on him. 

Pike slowly nods and turns to Hugh. 

“Dr Culber, I just wanted to say that-” 

“Captain, life doesn’t happen on our schedule or convenience. It just happens. So if there is nothing else?” 

There is a beat of hesitance then Pike nods and gestures to Tyler to follow him, leaving Hugh alone in sickbay. 

 

The instant the door closes behind the three men Hugh doubles over, bracing his hands against his knees to keep himself upright. He can feel his stomach roil and barely makes it to the bathroom before he throws up what little was left of his breakfast. Even after his stomach is empty the dry heaves continue, leaving his throat raw and aching, until he forces it to end. 

He sinks to the floor, back resting against the cold metal of the wall, every inch of him shaking and his skin covered in a fine layer of perspiration. He sits there, staring up into the cold, relentless light from overhead, feeling nothing but numbness and emptiness inside. 

If it is seconds, or minutes, or hours that pass until there’s a knock on the door he doesn’t know, time warps around him, muting into an eternity of nothing. 

“Doctor Culber? Are you in there?” Nurse Callahan’s voice calls. 

Did Tracy send him or did he come on his own? 

“Doctor Culber?” 

He doesn’t know where he finds the reserve of energy to move, to speak, but somehow, he does. 

“Yes. I’ll be out in a minute.” His voice is thick, metallic, alien to him. 

“Okay.” 

He manages to stagger to his feet. Cupping his hands under the tap he fills them with water and dips his face into it before drying off. Looking up he meets his own eyes, the eyes of a man he’s never seen before. 

The old Hugh Culber would never have agreed to Tyler's request, would have found it far too ethically questionable to even consider. But that Hugh Culber had never known what it was like to be truly lost.  

Hugh has never felt as lost as he does, meeting that stranger's gaze. 

 

At the end of his shift, walking back to his cabin from sickbay is almost more than Hugh feels physically capable of doing. He knows he could have asked Tracy to leave early but part of him had been too stubborn to quit, he had wanted to come back so he could deal with it. Now he’s paying the price for that. He knows he should go to the mess first, that neither his body nor his mind will thank him for not eating, but the extra journey and the risk of having to interact with people is far more than he’s capable of. 

Exiting the turbolift on the residential deck he takes three steps down it before spotting specialist Tyler and freezing in spot. Tyler too stops dead the moment he sees Hugh. Crewmembers mill past them as they stare at each other, neither moving. 

Hugh studies him. He looks little better than earlier though not by much, but there’s a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before, an expectancy as he looks at Hugh that Hugh doesn’t want to deal with. But the way to his cabin goes past Tyler. 

Sighing, he steps closer. The sooner they get this done, the quicker he can return home. 

“What do you want?” he asks when he’s near enough that Tyler can hear him, his voice leaden with weariness. 

“To say thank you, for what you did.” 

“I did my job, specialist Tyler.” 

“No, you did more than that and we both know it. As long as I know that I’m my own man, I can find a way to deal with the rest. You didn’t have to give me that. So, thank you.” 

Hugh just shakes his head and sighs, a wave of fatigue threatening to make his knees buckle. 

“Goodnight, specialist Tyler,” he says and walks past him. 

 

The following day is his weekly scheduled appointment with dr zh’Vahri and he’s never felt more like cancelling anything in his life. Even the threat of having his fitness for duty revoked does little to encourage him to go, maybe pulling him out of sickbay would be for the best. 

Still somehow, he manages to get out of bed, shower, dress and make his way to the recreational deck. 

“Do we have to talk?” he asks her once he’s seated. “You said I could pick the topics, what if I’d rather remain silent?” 

“If you prefer that we sit a stare at each other the entire time then we can do that.” 

Hugh leans back in his chair, fold his arms across his chest and stares at a point on the wall behind her. He can hear the soft tabs of her stylus against the padd’s screen, the soft rustle of her clothes when she moves and catches the movement out of the corner of his eyes every time, she looks up at him. 

Words are churning in his head, words that’s been going around and around since yesterday, building momentum and wearing him down, until it feels like they’ll break him. In the silence they’re becoming deafening. 

“I don’t know if you could ever understand this. Any of it. What happened to me, what’s inside my head.” 

“I’m not here to understand you, doctor Culber. I’m here to help you understand yourself.” 

He looks away from the wall and meets her gaze. It’s calm, it doesn’t badger him with demands he doesn’t know how to meet, and he finds the words suddenly spilling out of him. 

“He gone. Voq. He’s... just not there. Tyler may have his memories, but we’re more than our memories and Voq’s... personality, his... soul. It’s not there.” 

He unfolds his arms, clasps his hands in front of him and shifts uneasily on the chair. 

“I’d thought- To see Tyler walk around with no consequence after what happened, I didn’t know how to handle that and I kept thinking if I could get, justice, retribution, something, I could move forward. But Voq, the one that killed me, he’s gone. There’s only Tyler there. And I’m not sure how to deal with that.” 

He exhales slowly, dragging his hands over his face. 

“I thought I knew how to move forward, but I don’t. Not anymore. Not from here.” 

He looks at her again. 

“When we talked the first time I was here, you said that you were in the business of helping people find the appropriate building manuals.” 

“Yes.” 

Hugh looks up from his hands and meets her eyes. 

“Help me find mine.” 

“Of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happiness in the next chapter, but also I'm afraid a lot of sadness. Paul will show up though you may all wish he hadn't by the end of it.
> 
> Still it's a - mostly - upwards journey from here.


	3. We’re Bound To Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as of this week's episode I'm definitely veering into non-canon territory.
> 
>  
> 
> As promised, Paul shows up in this one and you may end up hating me for it.

“How was your week?” Thelthaa asks Hugh as he sits across her in the armchair for yet another session. 

“Better,” he answers. “Good even, considering... everything.” 

“Everything being?” 

“Coming back from the dead. Literally.” 

The joke should be tired by now but still it doesn't fail to elicit a smile from both of them. It still surprises him that he can smile, for a time he thought he’d forgotten how and the movement of his lips still feels ever so slightly foreign his face. 

“Care to specify on the ‘good’?” 

“For one thing I went to dinner last night. Tracy, doctor Pollard, and her husband had invited me over. He cooks when he can. He’s a good cook. A very good cook. We talked about... what you talk about during dinner, nothing, everything. It was... normal.” 

“Sounds like you had a good time.” 

“I did. I’m glad I accepted the invitation. Truthfully, I don’t know what I’d have done over these past weeks without Tracy. I trying to think of a gift to give her as thank you.” 

“From what you’ve told me of your relationship with her she isn’t doing it to be recompensed.” 

“I know, I just- I want her to know that I’m... I don’t know, grateful, that I’m not blind to her? I know I’m not the man I used to be, that I’m not always easy to be around. But she’s trying to build a relationship with the new Hugh, not bring back the old one.” 

“Who’s trying to bring back the old you?” 

Paul. At least he had last they talked. 

“I was speaking in general.” 

She keeps her gaze evenly on him and he knows she’s not at all convinced. 

“Very well,” is all she says though. “How about other relationships, other than the one with Tracy Pollard. How are you doing on that front?” 

“It’s... hard. I talk to Scott and Sarai, our two nurses. Mostly professionally but, not always.” 

“Other than that?” 

Hugh shakes his head, pulling a face. 

“It’s... well it’s hard. Harder than I expected. I used to be able to talk to almost anyone, at almost any time, about anything. But that was the old me. The new me, seems to have forgotten how.” 

“Forgotten in what way?” 

“It’s just not the same. Most of the topics just feels... irrelevant somehow?” 

“Did your conversations with doctor Pollard and her husband last night feel irrelevant?” 

“No.” 

“But they weren’t about much of anything either according to you. So why the difference, do you think?” 

Hugh shifts in his chair, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. 

“Well the obvious answer is that if it’s not the topic, it’s the people.” 

“So, it didn’t feel irrelevant with Tracy and her husband, because...?” 

“I care. I care about Tracy. I don’t know her husband very well, yet, but he seems like a nice man.” He pauses. “By extension that means I don’t really care about everyone else. That sounds awful doesn’t it?” 

“There are different modes of caring. Professional. Personal.” 

“Still.” 

Thelthaa puts down her stylus and leans forward. 

“Hugh, I want you to consider something for me. The way you’ve talked about yourself, you sound like a man who used to give of himself very freely, to everyone he came into contact with, expecting little or nothing in return for his generosity. Now you have less to give, so you save it for the people who truly matter to you. Who gives back to you.” 

Hugh nods, slowly. 

Though things are better, so much still does not feel right, so many nights are filled with him lying awake afraid to fall asleep, to fall back into the world of pain and illusions that tried to kill him. A hollowness that still resides inside him and reaches up to engulf him when he least expects it, one he’s still finding himself helpless to counter. Too often he still feels like an automaton, moving, talking, but with nothing inside, no feelings, no connection to his body or the wider world. 

“Sometimes... I feel so, lonely? Like it’s suffocating me? I wish I could reach out and-” 

“And?” 

“And there’d be someone?” 

“Someone like?” 

“Paul.” 

It’s the first time he’s brought up the name since their first session. He knows that he has, consciously and subconsciously, been avoiding talking about him. But he can’t keep doing that forever, Paul has been a large part of his life for too long. A part that’s now longer there. 

How many times over the last couple of weeks haven’t he turned around to say something to him? Found his feet heading back to Paul’s quarters when he was tired and not thinking? Only to be filled with an overpowering ache spreading through him when he remembers that Paul isn’t there, no longer wants him to be part of his life. 

The same agony that spreads through him now, beginning somewhere in his midriff, passing through him until even his fingers and toes aches. 

“Hugh?” 

He exhales slowly, his breath quaking. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I thought I was ready, but I guess I’m not.” 

“Grief takes time, Hugh, and all forms of loss involves a grieving process. But the human mind can only take so much before it breaks. Don’t push yourself to handle more at a time than you can.” 

“It doesn't always work like that.” 

“No. But don’t push yourself in situations where you don’t need to.” 

“I’ll try to remember that.” 

 

His quarters are silent as always when he returns to them late that evening after having eaten dinner in the mess. They’re smaller than Paul’s but his own space. And empty. 

Undoing the collar and zipping down his jacket, he lets it hang loose from his shoulders, walks to the low cabinet and pulls out a bottle of scotch. He used to never drink at all outside of wine with food, but he’s developed the habit of drinking a glass when gets off duty. Only ever one, he’s determined that whatever his issues alcoholism won’t be one of them. 

Glass in hand he leans one shoulder against the bulkhead, looking out the small viewport at the star specked blackness beyond, enjoying the sharp burning sensation of the scotch down his throat and its rich flavor, thinking of nothing at all. 

He’s always valued his personal time. Much as he loves his work and his research it has never been his whole life. One of the many points he and Paul always differed. For Paul it always seemed to be little outside his work that mattered, like there was nothing more to the universe than that. Like the universe didn’t offer a thousand opportunities and pleasures. 

It was something he had so often tried to show Paul, but like with so many other things in their lives, it seemed to never go anywhere. 

As had their relationship. 

With a sigh he finishes his drink and makes his way to get ready for bed. 

 

Sickbay is quiet, which is not unusual this late in the day. Though he’s rarely here at this time nowadays. 

He and Tracy have shuffled around their hours. She likes to have a slow, leisurely breakfast with her husband before starting the day, while Hugh often begins to feel overwhelmed at the end of the day. So he mans the desk alone in the early hours, while Tracy covers the later ones on her own, unless something special comes up. It’s an arrangement that suits them both. 

But now and again things come up and they have to switch it around. So, for once Hugh finds himself at sickbay at the end of hours. 

“Um, hello?” 

Hugh looks up at Tilly, who’s standing right inside the sickbay door, clutching one hand to her upper arm, digging a thumb into the muscle. 

“Ensign, what can I do-” The light catches in a droplet that falls from her elbow, creating a tiny, red splash on the floor and the sleeve on the uniform is darkened. “You’re dripping blood, ensign. Better get on the table.” 

“I’m not sure I should let go? It’s a bit deep.” 

“Here, let me see.”  

The cut is indeed deep. Small, barely a centimeter wide, and narrow, but in spite of Tilly pressing her thumb down the blood flow won’t stop. A quick scan shows that not only have the muscles been pierced deeply, the wound ends right next to the branchial vein. Hugh feels his blood chill. 

“You’re right,” he says, keeping his voice calm. There’s no need to alarm her, not now. “You better keep pressure on that. Let me get the regenerator.” 

He fetches the instrument. 

“Ideally this should be against your skin, but I think we have to improvise here. Ensign, what happened? And why didn’t you just call me?” 

“Um, I was in engineering with lieutenant commander Stamets. He’s been working on a project and we were building, um, well, a cage of sorts, welding it together when one of the rods slipped and pierced my arm. I told him I’d come up here and let someone have a look at it.” 

Okay, maybe he should alarm her just a little. 

“Ensign Tilly, when a wound is this deep, it’s generally better to get professional assistance where you are rather than begin run about the ship. It could have ended badly for you.” 

“Badly?” 

“if this had been just a little deeper or it had torn open on your way here, you could have bled out.” 

Her eyes go wide. 

“Oh, I didn’t think it was that deep. I mean, I could see it was bleeding a lot, but I didn’t think it was that serious.” 

He can see why she gets on so well with Paul, they share the same complete recklessness with themselves. 

“Ensign, with this much blood, it’s generally better to assume it is serious than take chances. What did- What did Paul say?” 

“Nothing.” 

“But he knew you had been injured?” 

“Yes, but he didn’t really look and I hurried out the door?” 

Hugh feels the rise of a blind fury at Paul. Of all the irresponsible, oblivious things he could have done. 

“I see.” 

“Um, I wanted to talk to you. I hoped you were here.” 

“You used your injury as an excuse to see me? Ensign, you could talk to me anytime of the day. You don’t need an excuse to do that.” 

“I didn’t want him to think I was going behind his back. Though, I guess I am.” 

“Paul?” 

“Yes.” 

“About what?” 

“About him. He misses you. He hasn't said anything, but I know him. He’s... he’s just like when.” She swallows. “When you were dead. Except, worse.” 

He takes a deep breath. Oh she and Paul are a matched pair. Once they get an idea in their heads, they apparently have no thought for anything else, including their own safety. 

Mentally he shakes his head, focusing on his treatment of her arm. Better to say nothing more right now. 

“Alright I’ve regenerated the deeper tissue, you can let go now. It’ll let me fix the rest easier.” 

She removes her hand and let the free one fall listlessly into her lap. 

“Talk to him? Please?” 

Hugh continues to work in silence trying to think of what to tell her, without taking out an anger at her that isn’t hers to bear. 

“Ensign Tilly, I appreciate your kind heart, but Paul is a grown man. And so am I. Whatever our problems we can sort them out ourselves. And you certainly shouldn’t risk your life trying to repair other people’s lives.” 

He can see all the words that’s gathering in her eyes. 

“I know that you care for him, he’s your mentor. But you can’t fix other people’s lives for them.” 

 

He should go home, let the whole thing be until tomorrow when he’d be calmer. But he can’t, his anger won’t let him. 

Paul’s lab, usually a fairly tidy space, is chaos. The largest part of the disarray is what must be the cage Tilly was referencing. Or whatever the mess of metal wires, rods and bars in the middle of the room is. Paul is hunkering down beside it, staring at the mess, not even looking up as Hugh enters though he can’t have missed the loud sound of his boots against the deck. 

“Could you hand me the schematics? The padd’s on the table,” Paul says as Hugh draws near. 

“Hello, Paul.” 

Starting Paul looks up, scrambling to his feet with a surprised expression. 

“I. I thought you were...” his voice trails off. 

“Tilly?” 

“Yes.” 

“She’s in sickbay.” 

“I know, she had an accident. She said she’d get it looked at,” Paul says distractedly, his attention returning to the metal mess. 

“I know. I treated her.” 

“Good.” 

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“What else do you want me to say?” Paul replies, not looking up, his tone now having a sharp edge. 

Hugh stares at him, mentally fighting the urge to grab Paul by the shoulders, pull him to his feet and shake him. 

“You didn’t stop and give her a second glance, did you? Check on her? All you saw, was,” he waves his hand at the half build metal cage. “This. Whatever it is.” 

“It’s-” 

“I don’t care Paul. I really don’t.” 

“Of course not.” 

“That wound was less than a millimeter from a major vein in her arm. Any movement could have torn it wide open. Like her walking to sickbay from here. She could have bled out in a corridor Paul. She could have  _died!_ ” 

Finally, Paul looks up at him a look of stricken horror spreads on his face. 

“I didn’t realize. If I had known, I wouldn’t-” 

“I know you wouldn’t.  _If_ you had known. But you didn’t, because you couldn’t tear yourself away from whatever it is that obsessed you for _five seconds_ to see someone, anyone, else.” 

Hugh can feel his control unravel inside and puts one hand on the cold metal surface of the table, using the cold as an anchor for himself. 

“Do you know why she risked her life? Because she thinks you misses me? You didn’t even tell her you threw me out.” 

He feels a moment of guilt for betraying Tilly’s confidence, for the rift her behavior might create between her and Paul. But then, if this is the behavior her being near Paul encourages, she’s better off far away from him. Certainly a lot safer. 

“That’s not...” 

Paul shakes his head, grimacing. 

“Not what?” 

“That’s not what, what I did.” 

“No? The explain to me what the hell finding all my things boxed up, when you said it was ‘too hard’ for you to pack them just a little earlier? And you nowhere around. In fact, I haven’t seen you since have I? You must have gone to considerable lengths to avoid me for that to happen, considering we're on a Crossclass science vessel. Not a big space station you can hide on. How does that read other than ‘get out and stay away’?” 

“You said, you didn’t want to stay there anymore and I just thought- I wanted to spare you the effort of packing and it would be too hard to face me during it all. That if you wanted something, you’d come find me.” 

“You thought?” 

Anger should be hot, it should burn, but what Hugh feels explode inside him is glacial, encapsuling, freezing his pain. 

“You thought,” he repeats softly, his voice icy calm. “All of this, because ‘you thought’!” 

“Hugh, I don’t under-” 

“No. Paul. No. Enough. In all of this, you never once. Not  _once_ . Stopped to  _ask me_  what I wanted, what I needed? Of course, you didn’t, because you just don’t notice do you? Nothing ever exists to you, outside your own world does it? Not me, not anyone. Like tonight, where your preoccupation with your own projects, your own assumptions,  _could have cost a young woman her life!_ ” 

“I used to think that maybe I could pull you out of that. That I could make you see... the bigger world, other people, me. But you’re not really interested in that, are you? All that really matters to you, is your own ideas, your own world. What  _you_  want. What  _you_  think is the right thing. No one else really registers with you.” 

“Hugh I-” 

“You are, the most self-centered person, I’ve ever met. You want to light up the universe but you can only ever see yourself and I can’t believe I ever thought I could change that.” 

“Hugh, I’m sorry.” 

“And I’m sorry I ever fell in love with you.” 

Spinning on his heel Hugh storms out Paul’s lab. 

 

Hugh drops down on his couch the moment he’s inside his door, never bothering to turn on the light. Only the faint light of a nearby nebula lightens the room with its red and orange hues. 

His body refuse to stop trembling, a lump lodged in his throat that is painful to swallow around, thoughts swirling in his head. Erratically he clasps his hands together in front of his mouth, unclasps them, puts them between his knees. 

Focusing on his breathing he forces himself to breathe slowly and methodically in through his nose, hold it, before exhaling through his mouth, counting to five at each step. 

Once he no longer feels like his falling out of his own skin, he sinks back heavily against the back of the couch, memories of Paul filling his mind. Unable to stem the tide he lets them overwhelm him. The touch of his hands, the way he sometimes would look at Hugh making him feel like he glowed, like he was the center of the universe. 

When they had been good together, they had been really good, in the early days, before... Hugh isn’t really sure before what, why things had ended up the way they had. Paul’s unwillingness to see anything outside his own idea of what was right for everyone? Something else? 

That doesn't really matter now, does it? Paul is Paul, caught in his own blinding light and far too rarely able, or willing to look beyond it. Whether it’s that Paul can’t change, or just won’t, it amounts to the same thing. As hard as letting go will be, this will be one more thing he knows he will have to let go of. He has known that, know it since his return, but that doesn’t make facing it any easier. 

 

The next morning, Hugh enters sickbay to find Paul at Tilly’s bedside, talking intently, gesticulating the way he always does when passionate. There’s nothing angry about his body language, instead it seems all apologetic. But then Paul is always sorry, after. 

He doesn’t notice Hugh coming in, his back towards the door, but Tilly sees Hugh, her eyes going slightly wide and darting away, which in turn causes Paul to turn and look over his shoulder. His face goes rigid when he sees Hugh, an impassive mask, then instantly he turns his back again and returns his attention to Tilly. 

It feels like a knife in the chest. 

Hugh has a nigh irresistible impulse to grab him and physically escort him out, get him as far away from Tilly as he can. But Paul is causing no scene and Tilly is in full health to receive visitors and by all appearances willing to have him there so Hugh has no cause. So he exhales slowly and turns to enter the office. 

Inside he busies himself best he can, doing what he can to ignore what’s happening outside the window, fighting the urge to go back out there and confront Paul. After all it doesn’t look like Paul wants to talk to him and perhaps that’s for the best. 

He’s thankful that it’ll be a few days until he has his next session with Thelthaa, that will give him some time to sort through the jumble of thoughts and feelings inside him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you.
> 
> Listen, I promised a happy ending and it will come, it'll just take a good while for them to get there.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who's commented on this story so far. I try my best to reply to you all, but many days my limited energy means I have to choose between writing and replying to you. But all your comments are eagerly read and treasured, and are a lage part of what keeps me motivated to continue writing.


	4. Love Is Not A Victory March

Perhaps it is coincidence, perhaps Paul stops making an effort to avoid him, but Hugh finds himself seeing Paul more and more often around the ship. In the mess. Passing by in the corridor. And every time Hugh will an oppressive, eternal moment of silence pass between them as their paths cross. Paul on his side barely seem to notice him. 

His sessions with Thelthaa offers him neither solutions, nor solace. Every word only digging him further into a ditch he doesn’t know how to get out of. His growing feeling of dissatisfaction with his current professional position and desire to return to research but not knowing where or what adds even more layers of frustration. 

 

“Enough, Hugh!”  Tracy locks eyes with him across the table in doctor’s office in sickbay. Hugh’s gaze flickers away from hers. “You’ve been impossible for days and now you’re snapping at Jadin and me over a minor miscommunication. I know you’re having a rough time, but enough is enough.” 

“I’m sorry, Tracy.” 

“Then act like it.” 

Hugh nods, breathes unsteadily. 

“You can start by apologizing to Jadin.” 

He takes another deep breath and meet her eyes, eyes filled with a mix of anger, hurt and worry. 

“I can start by apologizing to you. Tracy, I’m truly sorry. I was way out of line.” 

Letting out a huff she drops down into the nearby chair. 

“What’s even eating at you Hugh? You’ve been biting more and more at everyone lately.” 

Hugh takes one of the opposite chairs. 

“It’s... I’m not sure. I feel like a river gnawing at its bank, too confined for its space. I want to do... something.” 

“What?” 

“If I knew I don’t think I would feel like this.” 

She grabs the padd next to her hand and tosses it to him. 

“There are, I don’t know, millions of conferences, courses, papers out there. If you want to do something, then pick something a  _do it_. If it’s not the right thing, then pick something else.” 

Hugh nods. 

“You’re right.” 

“After you apologize to, Jadin.” 

 

The corridor to Thelthaa’s office is filled with people, unsurprising as it is nearly lunchtime. Hugh hurrying along, hopes he can catch her before she leaves for her own meal. 

As he steps into her waiting room he nearly collides with Paul. For a moment they both stand froze, eyes locked, then Paul’s gaze snaps away and he steps around Hugh and disappears out the door, Hugh staring after him as it closes behind him. 

He turns back to Thelthaa not quite certain how to ask the question in his mind. 

“Yes, he’s come to see me. And apart from that I’ll tell you as much about him as I have told him about you. Nothing. But since this seems to have been a surprise for you, I assume that’s not why you’re here?” 

Hugh gathers himself with a shake of his head. Paul is no longer his concern. 

“Yes, I was wondering if I could reschedule? I’ve noticed there’s a holoconference about chroniton distortion and cognitive functions tomorrow. I want to attend it, its related to research I was doing before the war and I’m eager to know what happened in the field since. Unfortunately, it is going to clash with my appointment with you. I know it’s late to reschedule, but I only just saw it and I really want to be part of it.” 

“Come through and I’ll see what I have. Think there’s something late in the week that might suit you.” 

 

 _*white flash*_  

 _*dark flash*_  

 _*bright*_  

 _*dark*_  

 _shaking his head, trying to focus in the fluctuating light. just ahead is the door down to the engineering lab._  

 _one step. another._  

 _‘don’t go, don’t go, don’t go’_  

 _one more step. through the door opening._  

 _lab._  

 _stairs._  

 _control booth._  

 _chair._  

 _paul. impassive, unmoving. eyes staring empty into nothing._  

 

Heart pounding, his chest heaving and fear coursing spikily through his veins, Hugh is torn out of sleep, the dream still vivid in his mind, the image of Paul staring unseeing ahead, dead. 

He turns on the light and rolls out of the bed, sitting on its edge, the soles of his feet pressed against the cool metal of the deck. 

A dream, it had been a dream. 

‘ _Dreams can be real and reality a dream,_ ’ a cold, insidious voice whispers in the back of his head. 

Burying his face in his hands he struggles to bring his breathing back under control, but doesn’t quite manage. 

It was a dream, all a dream. He's back, on the Discovery, Paul is alive.  _He_ is alive. 

He repeats it to himself over and over, but in the faint light of the bedside lamp the logic of it refuses to take. The fear keeps crawling under his skin, that he’s still caught in the nightmare dream illusion of the network. 

Maybe, maybe if he goes to engineering, sees for himself that none of his dream is true he can let it go? 

Discarding his sweat soaked pajamas, Hugh pulls on a t-shirt with the ship’s nickname and a pair of sweatpants, slips on his boots and heads out the door. 

 

Engineering looks normal for ship's night, the lighting in the corridor low but there are no flashes. The room beyond is also dimly lit when Hugh steps into it, the lighting slowly brightening in response to his presence as he starts down the stairs. He cannot let go of a sense of unreality as he descends, of something off about the lab. 

A grunt from the desk draws his attention and he see Paul sitting with his feet on the table, leaned back in his chair, clearly having slept but now waking in response to the brightening light. 

Why is he even surprised Paul is here in the middle of the night? 

Knowing he can’t get out of the lab before Paul wakes Hugh remains standing on the stairs. 

Another groan and the thud of Paul’s booted feet dropping to the deck, a muttered, ‘what time is it?’ before Paul finally look up and sees him. 

“Hugh?” Paul’s voice is rough with sleep and confusion, an oh so familiar tone. “What are you doing here? It’s past three in the morning.” 

There is no coldness, no distance or hostility in Paul’s voice only puzzlement, its lack adding to the feeling of insincerity of the tableau. 

“I-” He doesn’t know how to respond to Paul’s question. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He looks around, trying to pinpoint what’s wrong about the room, if he can find it then perhaps, he can tear the illusion apart. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” 

He turns on Paul. 

“Why aren’t you angry? You should be angry.” 

“Hugh, why should I be angry?” 

“You’ve been angry all along; you won’t even look at me when we pass each other. This, this is all wrong.” 

“No. Hugh, I’m not- I've not been angry, I just... I haven’t known how to talk to you. What to say. Like the other day when we ran into each other at doctor zh'Vhari’s office. I’m sorry if it made you feel I was angry with you.” 

“How do you know about us meeting there?” 

Paul frowns. 

“I was there.” 

Hugh squeezes his eyes shut.  

Truth, lie, reality, illusion, what is this.  

If Paul knows, then this has to be real. Unless the network is pulling his thoughts from his head somehow. If he could only spot what is  _wrong_. 

“There’s something  _wrong_ here,” he says. 

“Hugh what are you doing here?” Paul asks, his voice patience and concern the pinprick of them piercing Hugh’s resistance. 

“I had a dream. You were dead in it, I thought I’d- But this, this isn’t real.” 

“It’s real Hugh. It’s real. I’m alive. So are you.” 

Forcing his eyes open Hugh looks at the room again, realizing what is not there. 

“The control booth. It’s missing.” 

The network wouldn’t make such a big mistake. Would it? 

“Yes, commander Reno and I took it down yesterday.” 

He turns to Paul. 

“Why?” 

“Well, we can’t very well use the spore drive knowing it might cause untold damage to a sentient species,” Paul says with that false lightness that he uses for heavy topics. “I finally drove that point home with Command. The drive is decommissioned, permanently. Would it help you to see the dismantled parts? I think Reno have them still somewhere below.” 

Hugh shakes his head, unable to shake the feeling of something illusory. 

“It was your life’s work,” he says slowly, softly. 

“I’ll find something else.” 

Why won’t the feeling of unreality go away? If this is real, why doesn’t it feel that way? 

He can feel himself start shaking and he hugs his arms around his torso to hold still. 

“Hugh, is there anything I can do to help you? Anything I can do to let you know that we’re both here, both real.” 

Paul is standing right next to him now. How did he come so close? Why didn’t Hugh see him move? 

“Why aren’t you angry?” 

“I was never angry with you. You were right. About so many things. I didn’t know how to deal, so I shut down. I’m sorry, Hugh.” 

Paul takes one step forward, he’s so near now, holding out his hand. 

“Can I help you?” he asks again. 

Shaking, breath shallow making him feel dizzy, Hugh holds out one hand too and Paul immediately takes it and Hugh holds on to it. 

“Does this help? Touch?” Paul asks. 

Hugh nods. 

Paul gestures, in the invitation of to a hug and Hugh steps into the embrace, leaning forward as Paul closes his arms around him, rubbing a hand across his back. 

“This is real, we’re real. You’re alive.” 

Paul’s body feels like it always has against his, warm, solid, slightly soft at the waist. His uniform smelling faintly of sweat and shampoo. Hugh clings to the sensations, letting them pull him back into reality, ground him. They pull at him, like a gravity well. It would be so easy to fall, to stay, to let Paul’s arms encircle him forever, never move away. He almost does. 

It isn’t until he steps back from Paul’s embrace, Paul’s hands lingering on his upper arms, that he realizes he’s been crying. Surreptitiously he wipes away the tears with a hand. 

“Back with us again?” Paul asks. 

Hugh nods. 

“Bad dreams from-” 

“Yes,” Hugh cuts him off. He already feels naked and vulnerable enough as it is, he doesn’t need to discuss it, least of all with Paul. 

Paul takes no umbrage from his terse rebuff, only let's go of him with a small grimace that Hugh almost misses, and steps back. 

“Good.” 

Hating himself for his weakness, for so nearly falling back into Paul’s arms, forgetting everything, Hugh casts about for words that will keep Paul at bay. 

“What were you doing at doctor zh'Vhari?” 

He expects consternation, irritation, a sharp rebuke, but all he gets is a soft sigh and that tiny sideways tilt of Paul’s head, he always does in acknowledgement. 

“I suppose I owe you an explanation, among other things,” Paul says gently. 

Paul leans back against the table, resting his hands on its edge. 

“The night after you came here, the one where Tilly was injured, I spent it here. In the lab. Thinking. About what you’d said and... you were right. About so many things. I’m sorry, Hugh. I owe you an apology. A thousand apologies. For all the times I hurt you, when I didn’t see you, saw... only my own idea of the world, of what was good for everyone. For you. For not seeing you when you needed me to most. For never asking. But as much as I wish, I cannot change the past, I can’t go back and fix what I broke, your faith in me.” 

A grimace with too many emotions to identify flits across Paul’s face before he continues. 

“All I have is now, now is the only time I can change. So that’s what I’m trying by seeing doctor zh'Vhari. To change. So I won’t do it again.” 

“So you decided to finally grow up?” The words a harsh, bitter on his tongue. 

“I suppose you could say that, yes,” Paul answers softly. 

Part of Hugh wants to lash out, scream at him why he couldn’t have done it when it’d have made a difference for them and if Paul had looked any different than he does, subdued, tired and filled with regret, he might have found the anger somewhere inside to do so. 

Instead he finds himself asking, “What will you do now then?” indicating the missing control booth for the spore drive. 

“I’ll think of something. It was what I was trying to do earlier, look into things and... time got away from me. Again. I had intended to make an early night of it, I’m trying to get more regular habits. Find myself failing at it a lot.” Paul sighs. “I suppose I really should get to bed.” 

He reaches out and turns off the computer, lowering the lights before looking back up at Hugh. 

“All of this is my fight, Hugh. Not yours. I just, wanted to say sorry.” 

Hugh nods and follows him as he walks out of the lab. 

Four floors up, on the residential deck, they part ways with a quiet, ‘Goodnight’, to each other. 

 

“I talked to Paul last night,” Hugh says, his voice not entirely steady. 

Usually he finds Thelthaa’s office comforting and welcoming, but today the walls press in on him, as if they’re trying to suffocate him. 

“In the most literal sense last night, it was past three in the morning. I’d had a nightmare and I’d gone to his lab to... make sure it wasn’t real.” 

He has brought up before the dreams he still has, so the news of another won’t surprise her. 

“What did you say each other?” 

“I had a, breakdown, of sorts. He comforted me. Then he apologized for past mistakes and we said goodnight.” 

“Went well by the sound of it then.” 

Hugh shakes his head. 

“I suppose it did, but- I can’t have it happen again.” 

“Why not?” 

“It would have been so easy to stay with him, I almost did. And it all left me feeling... defenseless, torn open. I can’t fall into his orbit; it’ll destroy me if I do. I’ll never be me. Paul is very good at getting his way, with everything, and in knowing what’s best. I can’t trust that he can, will, change. Not now.” 

He exhales shakily. 

“That... makes him sound malicious. I know he isn’t, he's possibly the most unselfish man I’ve ever met. That’s part of what drew me to him. But he’s also the most stubborn and self-centered one I’ve encountered and I can’t take the risk of him not changing. Not if I want to keep myself. But I don’t know what to do.” 

“About?” 

“We're only 136 people on board this ship, I will run into him again and again, and I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t know how to interact with him, without...” his voice trails off. 

“Have you thought about alternatives?” 

“Hiding isn’t really an option on a ship this small.” 

“I didn’t mean hiding. Why are you here?” 

Hugh lets out a half chuckle. 

“Are we talking ‘here in this office’ sense, or in the ‘great, philosophical question of life’ one?” 

“I meant on board the Discovery.” 

“I got dragged in Paul’s wake.” His voice is testy and he’s feeling uncharacteristically annoyed at the question.  

 _Why?_  It’s no more personal than many she’s asked, and a whole lot less than some. He can’t think of why, so he swallows his irritation and tries to answer her question with as much truth as he can. 

“No, that isn’t fair. I’m not a child and Paul never forced me to come with him. If anything, he had less of a choice to come here than I did.” 

He looks up at her. 

“When the war started Starfleet coopted Paul’s research in the interest of the war effort. He was forcibly assigned to the Discovery, his research partner, Justin Straal, to the Glenn. I could have stayed behind, continued my own life, where it was safe. Or safer. I was the one who chose not to, chose to come with him, even though that meant putting most of my own life on hold for a while.” 

“Why?” 

“Paul had no idea how long he’d be here, how long it would take him to do what Starfleet wanted. Months? Years even, if the war lasted that long. I didn’t want to be separated from him for that long.” 

He sighs and sits back in the chair. 

“But it was more than that. We were  _at war_. This ship, would be at the front lines. If something happened, I wanted to be with him. I didn’t want Paul to go off into danger alone, I wanted to face what he faced. He even tried to talk me out of it. I don’t think he liked the thought of my life being in danger any more than I liked the thought of his being.” 

Thelthaa nods. 

“That explains why you came here in the first place, but why are you here now? You could be a doctor in a thousand different places, even if you prefer to remain on a starship, you’re accomplished enough that there are plenty of vessels that’d jump at the chance of having you transfer. So why stay here?” 

“I’m... not sure.” 

“Think about it. Think about if staying or going will be best for you.” 

 

The mess is filled to the brim with people. There’s a crew rotation so the place is twice as busy, filled with people who are mustering on and off both. 

Still Hugh find himself sitting alone. Perhaps he’s acquired a reputation for desiring to sit alone when he eats that has spread among the crew, perhaps it is simply that the table is tucked away in a corner and barely noticeable from most of the room, though as he sits with his back towards the wall it gives him a good view of everyone else. Either way, he’s left alone. 

So in spite of the business of the room he finds himself looking up surprised when his table is approached, to see Paul standing there. Trapped in a whirlwind of emotions all Hugh find himself capable of is staring at him. 

“Can I sit here? There seem to be a distinct unavailability of seats today.” 

“I don’t see a reserved sign.” 

“No, but...” 

Hugh exhales slowly. If he can’t even be near Paul for the time it takes to eat a meal without falling apart, then perhaps Thelthaa has the right idea and he need to get off the ship. Only one way to test that. 

“Sit down, Paul.” 

Paul takes the seat, putting his tray down in front and immediately pulls out a datapadd and starts reading. 

Well, ignoring each other is one way of going about this. 

Hugh returns his attention to his meal, but his eyes keeps getting drawn to Paul’s padd. Reading upside down isn’t easy but he catches the occasional word: neural pathways through frontal lobe, quantum spin, consciousness and behavioral patterns. 

“When did you become interested in neurology?” he asks Paul. 

Paul looks up, in the half-distracted way he has when his line of thought is interrupted. 

“Um, it’s, an idea I had. One of the things I mentioned the other night.” 

“And you didn’t think to come to me with any questions?” 

“I’ll manage.” 

Hugh looks down the long line of tabs open. 

“It'll take you years to get through all of that judging by the amount you have there, knowledge I already have.” 

Paul’s gaze flicker. 

“I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to me.” 

Hugh feels his irritation rise, that makes things easier. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just deeply insult my ability to remain professional.” 

“You shouldn’t have to be professional for my convenience.” 

“You know, you could try asking one of these days instead of just assuming what I’d prefer.” 

“You’re right. I could and should. I’m sorry.” Paul exhales sharply and clasps his hands together on the table before him. “Doctor Culber, I have some inquiries concerning certain neurological aspects of a research project I’m thinking of. Would you mind assisting me?” 

The formality of Paul’s address surprises Hugh, but then he was the one who talked about professionalism moments ago. Very well, if Paul wanted professional Hugh could do that. Perhaps the distance of formal address will make things easier on them both. 

“Send me your notes and questions lieutenant commander Stamets, and I’ll have a look.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” 

 

Paul’s notes are waiting for him when he returns to his cabin that evening. Pouring his usual drink Hugh kicks off his boots and stretches out on the couch to read. By the time he gets to the second page his drink stands forgotten on the table beside him and he ends up falling asleep on the couch, padd resting on his chest. 

 

It takes him five days to get back to Paul.  

The first is spend reading the notes in full, following Paul’s often idiosyncratic leaps of thought that anyone else would find a struggle to track, but which Hugh knows only too well. The following two is spend reworking the idea and pulling up research relevant to the point. 

All the time he works Hugh feels like the river inside him that’s been gnawing at its banks have finally broken free, running unrestricted along its course. 

The last two days he spends going around and around the project he’s looking at. It pulls at him, personally as well as professionally, has sparked an interest he can’t recall when he last felt. But it has one stumbling block, Paul Stamets, a stumbling block he has no idea how to deal with. 

 

Paul’s new lab, now he is no longer tied to engineering, is located on the second science deck. Hugh finds him there, standing next to a lab table, hands placed on its surface, staring irately at a screen when he goes look for him. 

“You didn’t have to come down here,” Paul says when he looks up and sees him. “You could just have sent the notes.” 

“You’re basically trying to prove if the soul exists,” Hugh begins without preamble. 

“That’s an oversimplification.” 

“Not by much. Do you have any idea how many times this been tried? And failed?” 

“Well, someone has to succeed at it at some point, might as well be me.” 

Hugh inclines his head, there is a point there. But it isn’t his so he presses on. 

“But why so unambitious?” he asks in counter. 

The look of complete surprise on Paul’s face, that quickly merges into insulted outrage that’s half pretense, half real, would have made Hugh laugh had he been any less nervous. 

“I don’t think anyone have ever accused me of lacking ambition before.” 

“There’s a first time for everything.” 

"I assume you have a more ambitious idea then?” 

“Yes.” 

Hugh takes the datapadd he’s been carrying under his arm and pushes it across the table’s surface to Paul. Paul catches it without ever taking his eyes off Hugh’s face. 

“How do you find something if you don’t know what you’re looking for?” 

“I don’t follow you.” 

“Forget ‘if’. We know it does.” 

“Actually, it’s never been proven-” 

“I meant you and me.” 

Paul acknowledges that with an incline of his head. 

“But how _do_  you find something when you don’t know what you’re looking for?  _What_ is a soul? What makes you, you? What makes me, me? It exists, it can be transferred, exist outside a physical body like shown with the use of transporters and... my unique case. But scientist never asked  _what_ it is.” 

He can see the glimmer of interest in Paul’s eyes slowly build into wildfire as he speaks. 

“Because it’s always been seen as the area of mystics and charlatans,” Hugh goes on. “The provenance of priests. But beyond right and wrong, there-” 

“Is a field I’ll meet you there. Rumi, Sufi philosopher.” 

“I didn’t know you knew him.” 

“I’ve been reading. Except that wasn’t quite what he said, he used ‘iman’ religion, and ‘kufr’ infidelity. The lack of belief in religion at all. Beyond religious dogma and the rejection of anything that could be called ‘mystical’-” 

“The truth might be found. I know that isn’t quite what he meant, but it’s appropriate for this.” 

Paul is practically vibrating, ideas jumping in his eyes, and Hugh can feel his own pulse racing with excitement. 

“This is not exactly a respectable field,” Paul says. 

“When did you begin to care about respectability?” 

Paul grins. 

“Think what it could lead to. What we could find,” Hugh presses. 

“’We’?” There's a cautious note in Paul's voice as he asks.

“You're not leaving me out of this one, you’ll need an expert neurologist for it for a start.” 

There's a hesitance in Paul’s eyes and Hugh feels his nerves spike. 

“This is years, decades of work,” Paul points out, as if Hugh hadn’t already realized. “A lifetime even, if it can be done at all. Cooperating that long...” Paul’s voice trails off, uncertain, but Hugh can see the eagerness still. 

It had taken Hugh two days to come up with a solution, one that Paul had inadvertently supplied him with. If he, if they, can keep this strictly professional, a work only basis, then perhaps he can live with being this near Paul and not feel like he’s falling apart each time. And he wants this project. 

So before Paul can offer any objections Hugh straightens and says in a formal tone, “It won’t be a problem for me, lieutenant commander Stamets.” 

If Paul is hurt by the formality and abruptly created distance, he doesn’t show it, and Paul was always terrible at dissemination. 

“If you have no objections, then neither have I doctor Culber.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was something of an emotional roller-coaster, at least for me when I wrote it. Next up is a far happier chapter, because man Hugh needs a break (and so does the writer).


	5. Somewhere I Belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter update at long last. I apologize for the wait but the plot that I had originally intended for the middle chapters proved to not work at all. So I had to pull out all of the "stuffing" of this and redo it, complete with inventing an OC (I'll return to him anon). But with things back on the rails the rest should have shorter pauses between them.  
> Speaking of the OC and the update to the pairings tag some of you may have noticed, the Hugh Culber/Male Original Character is for this and the next chapter only. Hugh runs into an old flame of his when off Discovery for some much needed r&r. All in all this is a much happier chapter than any so far, but I doubt it'll go the way people think it will.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to lj-writes for betaing this chapter. I could not have done it without you.

A soft chuckle calls Hugh’s attention away from the research paper he’s absorbed in. He looks up to find Paul standing next to his desk in their lab. 

It’s their lab now, not just Paul’s. It’s been so long since Hugh last had a lab, he still feels unaccustomed to its rhythms and inner workings. Still it feels good to be back. Mostly. Paul seem to have accepted his indirect request for professional distance including Hugh’s insistence on last name and rank address. 

Most days he keeps a physical distance as well and even now, standing so close, closer than they’ve been in weeks, he keeps the table between them. 

Right now, he’s smiling. Eye’s crinkling with it. It makes Hugh long to reach out and run his fingers over the wrinkles. 

“Did you want something,” Hugh asks tersely, annoyed at his sudden impulse. 

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Paul replies, more subdued. “You were so absorbed.” 

“I guess I was.” 

“You do not want my bad habits Doctor Culber, they suck.” 

“Did you want something?” Hugh repeats, his tone curt. 

Paul’s smile fades away. 

“Yes, it’s past eight. I was going to call it a night. Maybe you should do the same?” 

Hugh has the irrational impulse to stay simply because Paul suggested the opposite but he restrains himself, he’s not going to turn into an obstinate five-year-old. 

Turning off the light at his desk he silently follows Paul out of the room. 

 

Back in his cabin Hugh settles himself on his couch, trying to sort out his thoughts, knowing there’ll be no sleep for him as long as he’s in this much turmoil. He skipped dinner, not the wisest choice, but it was the only way he could avoid spending any more time alongside Paul. 

Perhaps all of this had been a terrible idea. Being this close to Paul for hours each day is proving difficult even with their professional boundaries in place. Paul has... changed, there’s no other word that covers it. He’s more subdued now than before, more distant. Or maybe he’s just trying to keep the distance that Hugh is trying hard to maintain. If so, Paul is the more successful of them. 

And the project itself? What is he even hoping to achieve? Some form of answers for his unique experience? Or is he just picking at an open wound, refusing to let it heal? It had seemed such a good idea at first, but he should know by now the dangers of following spur of the moment impulses and not thinking things through, he’s too old not to, and for all that return to research had felt good he’s less certain about the specific topic. 

Or maybe it’s just this ship? 

When was the last time he was off it? Voluntarily? 

Discovery will dock at Starbase 16 in four days for minor repairs and maintenance, for one week's stay, maybe he should take the opportunity to see something else beside the ship’s corridors? He prefers to take his vacations ground side, wind in his hair and sun, rain or snow on his skin. As much as he loves life in space, he sometimes feels the need to connect with the world again. Alternately he loves big cities with museums, theaters and music halls. But a starbase will at least be something different, and a place where he can sort out his thoughts far away from Paul. 

 

The transporter room is filled with crew members waiting to beam over for some r&r. Hugh is unsurprised to see Detmer and Owosekun standing close, heads bent towards each other, deep in discussion. Nor does Rhy’s presence surprise. 

But Paul’s does. Catching sight of his blond head almost makes Hugh turn around and head back, but he needs time off this damn ship, before the blue light and metal walls drives him crazy. 

When Paul spots him in the crowd too, Hugh considers ignoring him until he realizes how utterly ridiculous the impulse is and makes his way across the room. 

“Is there a conference on Starbase 16 I don’t know off?” 

Paul shakes his head. 

“Not that I know of. Supposedly a social life is good for you, so I decided to give it a try since we’re here for a week.” 

Hugh bites back an acerbic comment about the change in his priorities. Too often Paul had to be dragged away from work when he became engaged in something new. Hugh remembers all too well how hard he had to fight the man’s obsessive focus to get his attention. But Paul’s life is his own now to live as he wants. Hugh is not going to say or do anything about it and the starbase should be more than big enough that keeping away from Paul shouldn’t be hard. 

So he remains silent and neither says anything else as they wait to be beamed over. 

 

Starbase 16’s transporter room opens out directly to a great square that is decorated with low plant boxes filled with flowers and bushes in a riot of colors, benches and tables placed among them where people can sit and lounge or talk, or play games. 

“Picturesque,” Paul comments. 

“Yes well, some people care about the appearance of their living environment.” 

The expected counter outburst from Paul remains absent as they have been for a while now, the man only sighing softly. 

“As I live and breathe, Hugh Culber.” A voice with a distinct Irish accent, teasingly familiar to Hugh’s memory, interrupts them.  

Turning he sees a man with shortish, ruffled, dark hair. Only a little taller than him and lean of build, the man's whole face is lit up in a delighted smile. Hugh can feel a similar broad smile break out across his face. 

“Patrick O’Rourke! It’s been forever.” 

He finds himself gathered into one of the man’s trademark bear hugs. 

“You haven’t changed a bit,” Hugh grins when Patrick lets go enough that Hugh feels he can breathe again. Patrick’s hands linger on his shoulders, and his own rest on Patrick’s waist. 

“I’d believe that if you hadn’t taken a few seconds too long to recognize me,” Patrick laughs back, eyes crinkling in a way that takes Hugh back years. 

“Chalk that up to having to dig through over fifteen years of memories.” 

“Has it really been that long? Feels like yesterday. Still I suppose it has, you’re going grey,” Patrick says, waving one hand at Hugh’s temples. 

Hugh looks at Patrick, taking in the changes time has wrought and he can see Patrick do the same for him. There are lines at the corners of his eyes and his face is a bit leaner than it used to be. His hair is still the same deep black with just a hint of curl to it. He’s softer around the middle too, though he still feels as solid as always between Hugh’s hands. When last they’d looked at each other it had been in a painful goodbye, but Hugh finds that with the years spread out between then and now all that’s left is fondness for what they’d had back then, and a deep joy at seeing Patrick again after all these years. 

“So, who’s this?” Patrick asks, looking over Hugh’s shoulder. 

Hugh frowns. 

Oh yes, of course. Paul. 

Feeling a heat creeping into his cheeks he steps back and let's go of Patrick, turning to Paul who’s studying both of them with intense curiosity. 

“Ah, this is, Lieutenant Commander Paul Stamets. A-” God how does he explain who Paul is to him. “Colleague, from the Discovery,” is what he settles on. 

“This is Doctor Patrick O’Rourke, an... ex,” he introduces Patrick. 

“For my sins.” 

Patrick holds out his hand and Paul takes it to give it a brief shake. There’s an odd expression on Paul’s face, but Hugh dismisses it. He never asked Paul to come with him. 

“Can I steal you away for lunch for a few hours?” Patrick asks Hugh. “Or are you busy?” 

“Not at all. I’m off duty for a week and as free as a man can be and be alive.” 

“In that case I’m most certainly stealing you away to catch up. You’re terrible at keeping in touch.” 

“Hmmm, yes. Because it was beyond your ability to ever call me?” Hugh retorts as he walks away with Patrick, determinedly not looking back in Paul’s direction. 

 

After a brief detour to deposit his bags at the rooms he’s staying in Hugh lets Patrick guide them to a small café off the main corridors. An intimate place of the kind both he and Patrick always loved to frequent. 

“So,” Patrick asks after they’ve ordered. “What have you been doing all these years?” 

“Let’s see,” Hugh says, taking a bite of his food. “Joined Starfleet.” 

“Yes, I was there for that.” 

Hugh grins. 

“Graduated from the Academy. Traveled the stars, did research, lived my life.” 

“Got involved in a war too?” 

Hugh sighs. Yes, the war. He can hardly leave that out. 

“That was not something any of us wanted. But there wasn't much choice with the Klingons bearing down on us. So we fought.” 

“Can’t have been fun.” 

“No, it wasn’t. You must have experienced some of it if you were up here?” 

“Ay, we did. But not the worst of it thank God.” 

“What are you even doing on a starbase Patrick, you hate being in space. It was one of the reasons we split up.” 

Patrick smiles ruefully. 

“Fell in love. Did what I was wise enough not to do with you, permanently compromise on my part. Followed her up here.” 

“What happened?” 

Patrick sighs. 

“The thing I knew would have happened with us,” he says, taking a bite and chewing it before continuing. “We both ended up miserable. We ended it about a year ago, not long after the war ended. We might have done it sooner if the war hadn’t happened, but during it, it didn’t feel like it was a good time for endings. Too many of them already. Instead we stuck it out. Thought it might last even.” Patrick shakes his head. “It didn’t.” 

“But if that was a year ago, why are you still here?” 

“She moved, took a while to get over it. Still haven't in a way. I know I should pick something and get moving, but the problem with that...” 

“...is to pick something and move.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from recent experience here?” 

Hugh sighs. 

“You could say that.” 

“What happened?” 

“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not talk about it.” 

“That bad?” 

“Yes.” 

“Must be bad, you were always the most positive man I knew.” 

“I’m not who I was Patrick. I’ve... changed.” 

“We all change with time, Hugh. Consequence of being alive. Only the dead are stagnant.” 

Hugh laughs, can’t help it. Patrick gives him a questioning look but Hugh just shakes his head and goes on. 

“Yes, but there are... differences. Some change more than others.” 

“Now you’ve really piqued my interest.” 

“Forget it Patrick. Can we talk about something else?” 

Patrick shrugs. 

“If you want.” Patrick is silent for a moment. “What’s your story with Lieutenant Commander Blondie?” he then asks. 

“Paul?” 

“Paul, is he?” 

Hugh wishes he had bitten his tongue off rather than say that. 

“He’s part of the whole ‘can we talk about something else’ subject.” 

“That bad, eh?” 

“Change of topic, please?” 

For a moment it looks like Patrick might persist. One thing Hugh had adored about him was his persistence, but it was also his most annoying trait. Right now, it is definitely more annoying than endearing. 

“Okay, have you had a chance to attend that new Andorian performance that’s touring?” 

Hugh lets out a mental sigh of relief, seems Patrick decided to curb his tenacious leanings. For now, anyway. 

 

He completely forgets time talking to Patrick, their meandering conversation winding its way from topic through topic, from opera, through art, to medical discoveries, returning briefly to music before wandering off again. It brings back memories to Hugh of the hundreds, thousands, similar ones he and Patrick shared over the years. 

After they finish eating, Justin takes him for a walk around the base, showing him some of its more scenic places as they keep talking. 

“It looks like part of this is new?” Hugh observes as they cross one of the larger squares. The metal of the support structure is definitely of a recent date and much of the decoration looks new too, maybe less than a year. 

“Yeah. We got hit. Not bad and Starfleet saved our butts, but this part had to be rebuilt.” 

Hugh looks at the structure again. For this massive a rebuild there’d have to have been a breach of the outer structure. Which would have meant people getting sucked into space. And any attack meant injuries, which meant work for a surgeon. 

For Patrick, a man who so relishes peace and quiet, who’s never wanted to face bloodshed and death, Hugh can’t imagine what it’d feel like. 

“That can’t have been an easy day,” he says. 

Patrick shrugs, grimacing. 

“You’ve probably seen worse.” 

“Maybe, but I chose where I went.” 

“Does that make it any easier?” 

“Maybe not quite, but... I know what I signed up for.” 

Patrick reaches out and runs a hand over Hugh’s arm. 

“Still.” 

Hugh smiles, hooking his arm through Patrick’s, feeling a pang in his chest.  

That was Patrick for you, he would always reach out and offer comfort to others, no matter how he felt. That was why Hugh had agreed to break up with him, he knew that Starfleet would kill Patrick. Maybe not his body, but something in him. The very thing Hugh sought, thrived on, would destroy Patrick. Just as Patrick’s idea of life would ultimately have suffocated him. 

So they had parted. It had hurt and hurt a lot, but that was then. Looking at Patrick out of the corner of his eye all Hugh feels is warmth, and a vague regret at what could never have lasted. 

Then all these years later Patrick had then come here, because of love, and faced all of that – his fears of space, dislike of death and danger – and by the look of him it had been every bit as damaging as Hugh had thought it would be. As they both had. 

“What are you thinking? You look so far away,” Patrick says, pulling Hugh back into the present. 

“The past and how... how love isn’t always a good thing.” 

“No? I’d say it’s an excellent thing.” 

“Even now?” 

Patrick looks at him. 

“Hugh. I came here of my own will.” 

“Yes but-” 

“But nothing, Hugh. I was good while it was good.” 

“And then?” 

“And then it wasn’t. Can we drop this topic? Seems I’m no keener on you analyzing my past than you are about me diving into yours.” 

The testiness in Patrick’s voice is clear and Hugh backs down. 

“I’m sorry, I just...” 

“Just what?” 

“Don’t like to see you hurt. I still care about you it seems.” 

“After not having seen me for fifteen years?” 

“Yes. And I should have called, we shouldn’t have lost touch. I guess it hurt too much at first and then, it felt awkward.” 

“I know what you mean.” 

Patrick leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek, sending a jolt through him. Such a familiar thing, but so surprising. 

“Sorry that was probably a bit too familiar. Memory lane bringing things back.” 

“No, it was... nice.” Hugh says, finding that he means it. 

The last person to do that was Paul, before Hugh died. He had half forgotten what it felt like to be kissed. 

“It’s okay,” he goes on. “It’s been a while since anyone did that. That’s all.” 

Patrick contemplates him, with a look Hugh has no idea how to read. 

“How about dinner?” Patrick asks. 

“You just took me to lunch.” 

“Yes, and now I’m inviting you out for dinner.” 

“That sounded formal, do I need to dress up?” 

“You definitely need to dress up.” 

 

The restaurant is certainly fancy and definitely the kind that one needs to dress up for, complete with a dance floor in the middle of the room, and Hugh finds himself glad he decided to bring his best suit, navy blue jacket and pants with a black shirt underneath. Patrick was dressed as flamboyantly as always when he went out, in a kilt, the purple and dark green of Carlow county, and a purple jacket clearly inspired by the traditional hanbok, complete with ruffles at the neck.  

Hugh chuckles as Patrick escort him to their seats. 

“Really?” Hugh says looking around them as they sit down at their table. 

“I told you it was dress up. And you took me on my word. You look gorgeous by the way, which you damn well already know.” 

Hugh shakes his head, still laughing. 

“Just like old times,” Patrick goes on. 

Hugh’s smile fades. 

“Patrick, no one can live in the past.” 

Patrick frowns. 

“Who said anything about living there? I thought maybe we could... I don’t know, reminisce a bit together. Two old friends, having a good time.” 

“In what way?” 

“Well, we’d start with dinner,” Patrick says, indicating the room around them. 

Hugh can’t help smiling. 

“Clearly. What else.” 

“Dancing. Maybe a few walks together, talking.” 

“And that’s all?” 

Patrick hesitates before reaching out an putting a hand on Hugh’s wrist. His fingertips brush the sensitive skin on the inside, caressing it, dipping just inside the edge of the cuff before retreating. 

“That,” Patrick says. “Depends entirely on you.” 

It’s such a small thing. Patrick's palm on top of his hand, two fingers skimming his skin, but it feels like every single nerve in his lower arm has been set on fire, a burst of heat kindling beneath his skin. 

“I-” 

It seems his brain has forgotten how to form sentences, too. 

Patrick withdraws his hand and Hugh almost grabs hold of it, but restrains himself. 

“Just a suggestion.” Patrick says. 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” 

“What kind of answer is that?” 

He's breathless, just from this, and not quite sure if he’s enjoying the sensation or not. It makes his body feel wonderfully new and strangely foreign all at the same time. 

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says. “If I knew it’d make you angry, I wouldn’t have.” 

“I’m not angry.” 

“You could have fooled me. Then what are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I-” How can he even begin to explain this. He doesn’t want to explain everything to Patrick, he wants to forget it. Here, these few days, he wants to forget. Is that so much to ask? 

“It’s- I guess, it’s just been a very long time. And I’m... I’m not sure what you’re trying to do.” 

“Oh, I thought that was obvious. I’m trying to seduce you.” 

Hugh lets out a startled laugh. He had forgotten how extremely candid Patrick could be. 

“Really? Why?” 

“Because I want a few day’s' good times with you before you disappear out of my life again. I enjoyed what we had and we’re both single, so why not? And.” Patrick concludes, pinning Hugh with a stare. “Somehow you managed to grow more beautiful than when you were 26 and you looked like a damn angel back then, so I’m not quite sure how.” 

Hugh starts laughing, he can’t help it. Patrick always could do that, make him laugh no matter what. 

“You don’t have to say yes,” Patrick goes on. “It’s an offer, not a requirement. We can still do the rest if you don’t fancy kissing me again.” 

“I’d say you were going for a bit more than kissing.” 

“That too.” 

Hugh looks at him, really looks. The dark, slightly curled hair. Brown eyes, dark and kind and right now sparkling with mirth but sometimes so melancholy. He takes after his Korean mother in looks far more than the Irish father who gave him his name. Soft lips that he remembers all too well the feel of against his own. And at the edge of his thought slinks memories of ice blue eyes, straight, blond hair and a sardonic tongue, but Hugh keeps them firmly banished there. 

“Let me think about it.” 

 

Dinner is pleasant and congenial, and after they finish their meal Patrick stands and bows gallantly, inviting him to dance. Hugh almost forgets time. 

One thing he can’t forget is the feeling of Patrick’s hands on him. They are both tactile men and always have been, and with every touch, every brush of Patrick’s hand on his arm, shoulder, back, Hugh feels that tiny spark bloom beneath his skin. Not that any of Patrick’s touches are suggestive, but now that the idea has been planted in Hugh’s mind it won’t let him go. By the end of the evening it has him almost dizzy. 

When they leave the restaurant and step out unto the big square beyond the lighting has been lowered in an imitation of nighttime, bathing all of it in an almost twilight illumination. Patrick hooks his arm through Hugh’s and they start walking together. Hugh gets the feeling that he wants this evening to end as little as Hugh does. 

They cross the square and wander down the corridors until Patrick suddenly stops. 

“Well, this is my stop,” he says, pointing to the door behind him. “Is this where we say goodnight?” 

“I don’t want to say goodnight.” 

“But?” Patrick must have been able to hear the hesitation in his voice. 

“It’s... been a very long time. I’m not even sure I remember.” 

“Hugh if you don’t want to-” 

“I do. But...” 

Yes or no. That’s it, there isn’t a whole lot of ground between them. Either he says no and they part for tonight, or he says yes and they move on to... whatever that may take them. 

Licking his lips, Hugh reaches out and cups the side of Patrick’s face, brushing his fingers across the skin. They’ve both gone very still and the corridor feels utterly silent as they stand there. Slowly, so slowly he’s almost unaware he’s moving, Hugh leans forward and skims Patrick’s lips with his own. They’re as soft as he remembers, slightly chapped from biting – Patrick always worried his lower lip when stressed – and pressing ever so slightly back against his own. It sends sparks through his entire body, makes him keenly aware of every nerve ending he possess and when he pulls back – just enough that their lips are no longer touching – he's breathless. 

“Yes,” he whispers. 

Patrick’s hands come up to grab Hugh’s waist, gently curling around it, as he closes the tiny distance between them to kiss Hugh back. 

This kiss is firm and the underlying passion makes Hugh’s skin break out in goosebumps. When they break apart again Patrick leans over to undo the door lock. 

“Come on in and I’ll see if I can help you recall,” he says between kissing Hugh again and again, his hands beginning to roam beneath Hugh’s shirt. 

Hugh shivers in delight at the touch and lets himself willingly be pulled through the door. 

 

The bed is soft beneath Hugh’s naked body, the folds of the rumpled sheet pressing not quite comfortably against the back of Hugh’s thighs, but in the warm, soft postcoital glow that’s filling him from head to toe he doesn’t much care. He had definitely forgotten it could feel like this, that he could feel like this, and it makes the sensation both familiar and curiously new, a bridge between who he was and who he is. 

Patrick’s hand is trailing up and down his arm, and Hugh can feel the dip of the mattress to his left where Patrick’s body depresses it. 

“Are you beginning to remember?” Patrick asks. 

“I think bits and pieces are coming back, yes.” 

Patrick laughs. 

Lazily Hugh opens his eyes, looking around the room for the first time, when Patrick pulled him in here there was other things occupying his attention.  

It is filled with knickknacks, mementos of Patrick’s life. The constant collecting of physical keepsakes and reminders was a topic that had often led to arguments between them. It was something Hugh had never understood. Even before joining Starfleet he hadn’t had a whole lot of possessions and never felt the need to gather much in the way of physical reminders of events. His memories were in his head or in pictures taken, that was enough. And these days he can pack all his belongings, the ones he wants to keep, into two carrier bags. 

Patrick felt otherwise, so much so that Hugh had often felt like their home smothered him. But right now, he finds that he doesn’t care, it only serves to make the room feel reassuringly Patrick. 

“You’re judging my décor,” Patrick says, his tone amused. 

Hugh turns his head and looks at him. His hair is disordered and his eyes are crinkling in a smile. 

“A little perhaps.” 

Patrick leans in and kisses him before rolling off the bed. Hugh follows him with his gaze as he walks into the living room and to the drinks cabinet. 

“Do you want- No wait, you don’t drink.” 

“Actually, I do,” Hugh replies, getting off the bed as well and walks to Patrick.  

As he does, his gaze falls on a picture of Patrick and Patrick’s parents as he passes it, the two of them standing side by side, holding each other, smiling, their son – still an adolescent – between them. He remembers the first time he met them, he’d rarely been that nervous or concerned about what impression he’d make. He could have saved his worries; they had liked him from the start. Now he can’t help but wonder how they feel about him now, or how they felt about their son having decided to go into space after all. 

“Since when?” Patrick asks, interrupting his train of thought, holding out a glass towards him. 

_Since I came back from the dead._  

“Since after the war. And you can get that worried look off you face; I’m not turning into an alcoholic any more than you are. I’ve just... changed.” 

“Mmmm, you can say that again. I don’t remember you being quite that... passive. That wasn’t a complaint mind, I was enjoying myself.” 

“So was I if that’s what you’re asking. Can we talk about something else?” 

It seems his whole life keeps returning to this and the point for him had been to get away from it all for a little while. Not quite turning out the way he had planned. 

Patrick studies him, sipping at his drink, reaching out one hand to let the fingers play across Hugh’s collarbone. 

“Hmmm. You don’t want to talk about this, about how and why you’ve changed, or about Lieutenant Commander Blondie. In fact, you spend a good deal of time tonight telling me what you don’t want. So tell me, Hugh Culber, what do you want?” 

Hugh lets out a quiet sigh. That really is the question isn’t it? 

Once the answers were clear to him, being a doctor, Starfleet, his research, the stars. Paul. Now? The questions feel too overwhelming to even try to answer. 

Is Starfleet even his answer anymore? Is any of it? 

He looks up at Patrick and is met with gentle, questioning eyes. A kind man, a man who wanted nothing more than a comfortable life and to help other people, who had never longed to throw himself against the entire universe and embrace it, to feel the breath catch at the sight of something new and majestic. 

Sweet, warm, extremely handsome and so very stubborn. Kind and loving. 

Maybe he should begin answering that question with something a little less ambitious. 

Hugh empties his glass and puts it on top of the counter before cupping Patrick’s face and leaning forward to kiss him. It isn’t the tentative kiss he first gave him, or the ones they shared during sex where he let Patrick kiss him as he wanted to. It’s passionate and hungry, and Patrick gasps under his lips but kisses him back with equal ardor. 

He takes Patrick’s glass out of his hand, putting it near his own, never breaking away, before slowly walking them both backwards, back into the bedroom. He drops down on the bed, sitting on the edge, and pulls Patrick into his lap. 

“What I want?” he asks idly as he runs his hands over Patrick’s neck and shoulders, kissing his jawline before pulling back. “Why don’t we start, with this?” he finishes, before planting a hungry kiss on Patrick’s throat. 

 

A touch on his arm starts him out of sleep, his heart leaping into his throat. He spins, half trapped in bed covers, poised to defend himself, coming face to face with a startled Patrick who’s leaning away from him in surprise. 

Forcing himself still Hugh pulls back, struggling to breathe regularly. 

“Are you okay?” Patrick asks. 

Hugh nods. 

“Yes I’m- You startled me.” 

“Sorry about that,” Patrick says, looking at him apologetically. “I didn’t know you were this jumpy or I wouldn’t have tried to wake you like that.” He holds out a steaming cup of coffee he picks up from the bed stand. “Here, I wanted to tell you that breakfast is almost done. I considered letting you sleep in, but I have to get to work and I wanted to eat breakfast with you first.” 

Hugh takes a sip of his coffee, letting the burn of it be a focus for his attention. 

“Do I have time for a shower?” he asks. 

“Yes. There’s a spare toothbrush in there too you can use.” 

Hugh smiles – trust Patrick to be prepared, another thing they have in common – and gives Patrick a peck on the cheek before heading into the shower. 

He hurries, not wanting to keep Patrick waiting, quickly wiping down and putting on Patrick’s robe that’s hanging from a hook in the bathroom, before joining him again. 

In the kitchen he’s met with a fully decked table, bowls filled with rice, soup, spicy stewed fish and much more. Hugh’s eyes go a little wide. 

“I’m not sure we can eat all of that,” he says. “Even between the two of us.” 

Patrick brush something off his sleeve, looking askance at Hugh. 

“I may have gone a little overboard. I wasn’t sure what you still liked.” 

Hugh smiles and pulls Patrick in for a kiss, a kiss Patrick enthusiastically reciprocates. 

They eat in comfortable silence and when they’re done Hugh helps Patrick clear the table. 

“Can I see you tonight again?” 

“I’m here for the week and all yours if you want to.” 

Patrick smiles. 

“I do. Here?” 

“If you want. Why?” 

“I think I’d like to keep you all to myself, just for one night.”  

Patrick runs one hand over Hugh’s shoulder, letting the touch linger for just a few moments too long to be casual. Hugh lets out a surprised but pleased laugh. 

“I don’t remember you as this randy. I’m pretty sure you’re not Vulcan, your sex drive shouldn’t be increasing with age.” 

A slightly rueful smile spreads on Patrick’s face. 

“You’re not the only one for whom it’s been a while. And I enjoyed last night. A lot. Both times.” 

“Tonight then, here,” Hugh says. 

Out in the corridor they kiss each other goodbye before parting. 

 

He trails through the station anxiously, the pleasantness of the morning all too quickly receding, leaving him feeling restless and on edge. 

Finding a small café down one of the main corridors, Hugh sits down, orders a cup of coffee and forces himself to sit still. To not move, not think, just be there. 

It’s harder than he thought it would be, harder than it used to be. It used to be easy. In the past, before he died, he could always settle down, even after a stressful day he could poise himself, find that center inside, a calm spot even in the worst storm. But now that center feels like it's gone, even trying to find it a struggle. He’s been so busy over the many months since his return that he’s barely noticed, too occupied with staying alive, piecing things together, to really notice the lack. But sitting here, watching people go by outside the window and having to force himself to just stay still, it is impossible for him to miss. 

Another thing he’s lost and has no idea how to regain, if it can at all be attained. It had been there yesterday, with Patrick, but now it escapes him again. 

He forces himself to stay, to keep his attention on the passing crowd, no matter how the restlessness beneath his skin pushes him to move. As time passes his agitation diminishes, but it never quite leaves. 

Not that part of him had not always been restless, there had always been a yearning to see more than could be seen from Earth, or from within the Federation’s borders. To see what no human had laid eyes on before. To reach out to the universe and embrace all of it, no matter the cost to himself. 

And now? What does he want now? Now that his center is gone and his calm shattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Hugh and Paul finally start dealing with their mutual stuff. Which will be painful at first on both sides, but they need to address a lot of things if they're ever going to be able to choose each other again.


	6. Leave Out All the Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter(s) at last. You get two for one now due to the wait.
> 
> For those who wants to know what Patrick looks like, I chose Korean actor Shin Ha Kyun as his faceclaim.
> 
> Once again thank you to lj-writes for betaing this chapter.

Time moves quickly when you’re happy and the days Hugh spends with Patrick on board Starbase 16 are the happiest he’s been since his return. 

Patrick takes him out four more time, three times to eat and once to the small theater on the base, the rest of the time they spend together in Patrick’s home, talking, laughing and having sex. Hugh finds himself perhaps a little addicted to the latter, he had forgotten how good it felt and Patrick’s gentleness makes it easy for him to forget everything else for a time. Patrick seems equally eager so there is no reason for him to hold back. 

And far too soon for Hugh's liking the week has passed. 

 

Patrick’s bedroom is pitch-black when he sleeps, something Hugh is finding hard to acclimate to and which has made it hard for him to fall asleep. The Discovery, as any Starfleet ship, always has a low light setting for nighttime, but never full dark even in bedrooms. In case of emergencies it makes it easier for the crew to pass from sleep to a brightly lit room. He has slept like that for so many years that the total darkness is slightly uncomfortable. 

But tonight, this is not what keeps him awake as he lies curled up against Patrick’s side, one arm across his chest. 

Tomorrow will be his final day with Patrick, then he will be heading back to the Discovery, though he’s not quite sure if he wants to or not. He’s been pushing that question and every other question aside while with Patrick but he can’t postpone making a choice any longer. 

These few days, alongside Patrick, it’s reminded him what being a couple is and should be, and he doesn’t want to let it go. Their time together has given him a peace he hasn’t felt in a very long time too and he doesn’t really want to let it or Patrick go. But to give up his life on Discovery, his research, Starfleet? He’s not sure he wants that either. 

Sighing, he rolls onto his back and then out of bed. It’s almost morning and since he can’t sleep, he might as well make them breakfast. 

He kisses Patrick on the cheek before leaving. One more day, to make his choices. 

 

As usual they eat mostly in silence, but today the quiet feels strained, though Patrick doesn’t seem to notice. 

Their peace is interrupted by the beep of an incoming message from Patrick’s padd. Reading it he begins to swear colorfully. 

“Language,” Hugh says softly. 

“Sorry,” Patrick says, putting down the padd. “But I’m being called in for duty. A group of tourists on one of the larger cruisers had an accident, they need extra hands. I’d hoped to spend all of today with you, but I have to go.” 

“I know how the medical profession works, remember?” Hugh answers with a smile. 

“It’ll never fail to impress me how stupid some tourists can be,” Patrick continues as he dresses, Hugh watching him from the kitchen. “We once had someone from a low gravity planet jump from the third story balcony down onto the Grand Plaza.” 

Remembering what it looked like, at the distance between the balconies and the ground from when he and Patrick walked through there, Hugh winces. 

“Please tell me the idiot survived it.” 

“They did, though I’m not sure they deserved it. But... tourists.” 

Hugh shakes his head, laughing softly. 

“I could tell you a few stories too, maybe I will during lunch.” 

“I’m definitely out of there by lunchtime, no matter what. And you can tell me all about your crazy Starfleet cadets.” 

“I wish it was only the cadets,” Hugh says drily. 

“Now you really have my attention. See you at lunch.” He drops a quick kiss on Hugh’s lips before hurrying out the door. 

 

Left to his own devices, Hugh finds himself ambling aimlessly through the station looking at its people. It’s far bigger than Discovery where he meets the same faces every day, the only changes when the rare crew rotations, but even than a core would remain the same almost no matter what. Here is feels like a constant changing rush of people. 

Remembering his intention to pick up a gift for Tracy while here, something that he still has not gotten around to, he makes his way to the smaller shops along the outer main corridor. It takes less time than he thought it would as he stumbles upon the perfect set of earrings that he knows she’ll love, and he’s left with his own thoughts again. 

Continuing his haphazard ramble, he finds himself on the Grand Plaza. Thinking about heading up to the first story balcony to visit one of the small cafeterias he lets his gaze drift along the walkway up there, only to have it come to a dead halt as he spots Paul sitting at one of them, near the banister. 

Hugh has only seen him once this week since they parted outside the transporter room, when he and Patrick were headed back from a restaurant. Paul didn’t notice him, he had been standing with his back towards them, engaged in an animated conversation with a young woman who seemed extraordinarily interested in what Paul had to say. Hugh hadn’t seen him that lively in... since before he died. 

He hadn’t taken the time to look at Paul back then; his mind had been on other things and Paul was quite frankly the last thing he wanted to think of. Now he finds himself thinking of the man. 

Paul is reclining on his chair, dressed in a black t-shirt with a grey cardigan over it and dark blue slacks. One arm resting on its back, ankle propped up on the opposite knee and his eyes closed as if listening to something. Hugh wonders what. Paul has never been one for music, he just didn’t really care much for it, found it a distraction. Perhaps some recording of a lecture? That's much more likely. 

Hugh pulls his eyes away from Paul, turning his back on the balconies and crosses the square to the three-floor-tall viewport out to space. It’s a magnificent feat of architecture and engineering, covering so large an area and fitting so well together with the general feeling of the square. It brings the people here close to the darkness of space outside without terrifying them. 

Outside he can see the ships docked at the starbase. A couple of shuttles, a cargo ship, a cruiser, probably the one which Patrick’s tourists came on. Beyond them and much larger than any other looms the Discovery, its dark grey hull faintly reflecting the light of the starbase and the nearby star. 

And beyond Discovery, space. With its million and millions of stars calling him. 

These few days with Patrick have been wonderful, something he’ll always treasure, the warmth and softness, Patrick’s ability to just be and let Hugh be with him, but looking out at space, at the stars, Hugh feels that old, familiar pull at his being. He wants to see what’s out there, wants all of it, the journey and the dangers. 

But the rest, Discovery itself, is that still his path? And what about Paul? That’s something else he needs to solve, somehow. 

His gaze strays to the reflection of Paul’s figure in the viewport's glass, still sitting in the exact same position. How many times did he see Paul sit like that when they lived together? Lost in his own thoughts, chasing ideas only he knew, oblivious to the world around him. 

How often had that led to arguments? 

It seems starting an argument with Paul these days is near impossible though. In the past weeks he’s been... meek. Hugh can think of no other word for his behavior. It’s completely unlike Paul. 

He said he was trying to change his ways, but this much? No one changes that much that fast. Hugh can attest to that. Unless. 

Unless something’s hurt them, hurt them deeply. 

But what? Paul hadn’t been like this when Hugh had just returned, he had been in many ways his old self. Too much like his old self, which was what had led to their fight in engineering. 

Their fight. It was after that Paul had changed wasn’t it? Had Hugh’s breaking up with him hurt him that much? 

In that case he’d just have to learn to live with it. 

But something about the fight keeps niggling at the back of Hugh’s mind as his eyes begin to wander back to the vista of open space. 

 _‘I’m sorry I ever fell in love with you.’_  

Suddenly his parting line to Paul that night stands crystal clear in his mind. 

Not, ‘I don’t love you anymore’. Nor, ‘I hate you’. But, ‘I’m sorry I ever fell in love with you’. 

Words spoken in anger, an anger born from pain, but said out loud all the same. 

Surely Paul doesn’t believe that, that Hugh truly did regret having feelings for him? 

Except he hasn’t given Paul any cause not to since, has he? The cold collegial distance he constantly tries to maintain, the curt even brusque tone he takes when Paul tries to approach him.  

And Paul has tried, hasn’t he? In spite of it all he’d tried to be civil, even friendly with Hugh – from his apology to the hundreds of times he’d reached out across the divide they’d created between them – only to be brushed off. And when Hugh introduced him and Patrick, he’d introduced Paul as a colleague but Patrick as an ex. 

Hugh swallows hard around the lump forming in his throat, trying to push aside the queasy feeling in his stomach. His eyes flick up to the reflection of Paul’s seat in the window, but the man is no longer there. Staring at the empty seat Hugh can all too well imagine how Paul must have felt in the days between their fight and his apology. 

 

It takes Hugh less than ten minutes to make up his mind about what to do next.  

Maybe he’s read the situation, and Paul, completely wrong, but he knows Paul well enough to doubt that. If he is right he can’t let Paul go on believing as he does any longer than necessary. 

Quickly he finds a comm and is lucky to catch Patrick between two patients. 

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asks, the moment his face appears on the screen. 

“Patrick, I know this is our last day and I know I said we’d have lunch, but something’s come up that can’t wait.” 

The close scrutiny of Patrick’s eyes almost makes Hugh cringe. 

“Okay,” he says. “Dinner instead? My place?” 

Hugh hesitates before nodding. He’s not sure he’ll be worth much as a dinner companion later, but he will probably be grateful for Patrick’s emotional support. 

 

Not only is the starbase significantly bigger than the Discovery, it also lacks its tracking system. As a result it takes Hugh the better part of an hour to find Paul again. And he finds him in the most unlikely of places, an art gallery. 

Entering, Hugh barely notices the works on display, only vaguely noticing that they look Tellarite in origin, his eyes intent on Paul as he moves through the crowd. He trails after him, trying to pick up the courage to talk to him now that he has found him. 

Perhaps Paul feels himself being watched, for he turns and catches Hugh’s gaze. He goes still beneath it, the animation that he displayed until that moment suddenly gone. That cuts at Hugh’s heart, but deeper still cuts the realization of how many times, over the past many weeks, he’s seen Paul do just that when their eyes caught each other or when they stood a bit too close. 

Swallowing, his mouth suddenly dry and tasting of metal, Hugh steps closer, navigating the crowd, but barely noticing anyone else. 

“Perhaps I am lacking taste, or possibly just context, but I do not understand any of these,” Paul says when Hugh draws near, the false lightness in his voice yet another blade. “But I doubt you’re here for my developing opinions as an art critic.” 

“No,” Hugh says, his voice hoarse. “I’m here to apologize.” 

Paul studies him. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Yes, I do. More than you know.” 

There is a moment's pause then Paul nods toward one of the nearby alcoves and Hugh silently follows him, not knowing where to begin. The alcove offers little in the way of seclusion, but at least it isn’t in the middle of the room. 

“Paul,” he starts knowing that if he doesn’t begin, his courage will fail him. “The night we fought, the night Ensign Tilly was injured, I said things I shouldn’t have. Things that hurt you. Things that weren’t true.” 

Paul shakes his head sadly. 

“Much of it was.” 

"Not all. I told you I regretted falling in love with you and that wasn’t true, Paul. It  _isn’t_  true. But I made you believe it was, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” 

For what feels like an eternity Paul simply looks at him, his face closed, inscrutable. Then slowly, almost agonizingly slow, he closes his eyes, his breath quavering, erratic, his lips drawn into a thin line. 

Hugh reaches out and grabs Paul’s arm, not knowing if it is to offer comfort or if he’s making himself a more convenient target for Paul’s anger, but anything would be preferable to watching Paul struggle to hold himself upright like this. 

Paul’s hand comes up and for a second Hugh thinks he’ll rip his hand away from his arm, but instead Paul clasps his hand over Hugh’s, holding it in place. 

They stand like that, Hugh dimly aware of people moving past outside, for several minutes. Beneath his grip Hugh can feel Paul shaking as tension slowly drains out of his body. When he opens his eyes again Hugh sees no anger, just a deep calm. 

“I’m sorry, Paul,” he says again, not knowing what else to say. 

Paul exhales explosively. 

“It’s in the past, let it go Hugh.” 

Hugh can feel Paul’s hand rubbing small circles on the back of his, an age-old way of his to offer comfort. 

“But thank you for telling me.” 

“What else could I do when I realized how what I said must have sounded to you?” 

Paul smiles at that, a little tired and less radiant than Hugh knows his smiles can be, but it’s the first smile he’s seen on Paul’s face in months. 

“Let it go,” Paul repeats, patting the back of Hugh’s hand before slowly pulling away. Then he looks around the room with his all too familiar expression of mild, puzzled annoyance when faced with something that confounds him. “These are honestly terrible. I may lack taste but-” 

As ever he could trust Paul to diffuse a tense situation with levity. 

“If I’m honest, they’re not my thing either,” Hugh says. “But perhaps I lack context too.” 

“Since this is clearly lost on both of us, perhaps that is our cue to leave.” 

Hugh silently follows him out of the gallery. 

Outside they both hover near each other, Paul clearly not knowing what to say any more than Hugh does. But in the end, he is the one to speak. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?” 

Hugh hears the implicit question, ‘will you be beaming back to the Discovery?’ 

Hugh nods. 

“Yes. It’s been nice, but I’m ready to go home.” Saying it Hugh realizes the truth of his words. He may not have come on board entirely of his own will, but Discovery is his home now, and it’s where he wants to stay. 

Paul smiles softly at that and part of Hugh aches to reach out and embrace him, but he’s lost all right to do that. 

“Then I will see you then,” Paul says and with a small, almost formal bow he so clearly intends as a joke, he walks away, Hugh following with his eyes until he disappears around the corner. 

 

“You look like shit,” is the first thing Patrick says when he sees him. 

Hugh steps around him, through the door to Patrick’s apartment. 

“Thanks,” he answers drily. “Maybe I should go, I’m not very good company right now.” 

Patrick shakes his head and leads him into the dining room where the table is already set. Patrick really has gone all in for their last dinner together and seeing the table makes Hugh feel even worse, though he hadn’t thought that was possible. As Hugh sits down Patrick steps around behind his chair and begins to rub his shoulders. 

“Whatever it was that came up must have gone terribly for you to look like this.” 

“It went better than I could possibly have hoped.” 

“Then your prospects must have been dismal.” 

Hugh just nods and sighs. 

Patrick lets go of his shoulders, grabs his chair and pulls it up next to Hugh’s. 

“What happened?” 

He's wearing his stubborn face; Hugh knows getting out of this one would be hard. And he wants to talk, maybe that will make it all hurt less. 

“I talked to Paul. I realized that some of the things I’d said to him... was something I should apologize for and it couldn’t wait. I’m sorry. He didn’t get angry. It might have been easier if he did.” 

Patrick reaches out and puts an arm around his shoulder. A ragged sob escapes Hugh. 

“You still love him, don’t you?” 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Of course, it is. That doesn’t mean it’s easy though. My guess, considering how you reacted every time he came up in conversation, he said some pretty shit things too.” 

“That doesn’t change what I said.” 

“No. But maybe he feels the same way. That what you said to him doesn't change what he said to you.” 

“Maybe.” 

Hugh sighs and leans into Patrick’s embrace. 

“Why are we even talking about this? Isn't there a rule about talking to your ex-boyfriend about his other ex?” 

Patrick gives him a squeeze. 

“I think everything we’ve done this week is probably against some rule of proper ex behavior or other, why start caring now?” 

Hugh chuckles weakly. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hugh,” Patrick says, leaning forward and kissing Hugh on the cheek. “I want to see you happy.” 

“Is that a hint that you think I should try and get back together with him?” 

“It’s a hint that I think you should consider what broke you two up and whether or not it’s fixable. Ours weren’t, but that doesn’t mean it’s true here.” 

Hugh nods. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Patrick rubs his shoulder once more before letting go. 

“What about you?” Hugh asks, taking a deep steadying breath. “What are you going to do?” 

“Get myself back to Earth for a start. I handed in my resignation at shift’s end.” 

“That was quick.” 

“I should have done it long ago; I just couldn’t make myself move.” He puts a hand on top of Hugh’s. “Now I’m glad I didn’t, but it’s time to leave.” 

“Yes.” Hugh gives Patrick’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll miss you.” 

“Well, don’t be a stranger then. I don't want to wait another fifteen years to hear from you again.” 

“I won’t.” 

While they eat Patrick makes small talk, something he was always good at. Tonight Hugh can’t really follow him, though, he still feels too raw after facing Paul. Still he appreciates Patrick’s attempt at distracting him. 

When the meal is done, he helps Patrick clean up, postponing the moment he has to go. But he can’t delay it forever and eventually even the kitchen is spotless. 

"I suppose I’d better go,” he says. 

“If that’s what you want,” Patrick replies softly, looking into his eyes. 

“I don’t.” 

Not right now, with everything inside him feeling so raw and fragile. 

“Then stay.” 

Patrick holds out his hand. 

“That’s not fair to you.” 

“Hugh, you don’t get to decide what is and isn’t fair to me. If you want to stay tonight, then stay.” 

Hugh takes Patrick’s hand and Patrick pulls him close, wrapping one arm around him, cupping the back of his neck with his free hand, before leaning in and kissing him softly, a kiss Hugh responds to with equal tenderness. 

 

Strangely he sleeps well that night, not stirring the next morning until Patrick does. Their morning routine, if a routine can be developed in less than a week, is unhurried. 

Once they’re done with breakfast Patrick takes Hugh’s hand and cups the back on his neck, kissing him firmly once before letting go. 

“Goodbye, Hugh.” 

“Goodbye, Patrick,” Hugh says in turn before turning around and stepping out the door. 

 

He returns to his room to pack his things. He hasn’t been there all week, except to change his clothes. 

As he begins to fold his clothes and put them into his bag, he notices the blinking light on the comm relay, the sign of an unread message. Bringing it up he’s unsurprised to find it over a day old, he wouldn’t have noticed it when he dropped by yesterday, too distracted by everything with Paul. 

Wondering who’d contact him here, he calls it up on the screen. 

 _Recipient:_ _Dr_ _Hugh Culber._  

 _Sender: Lt Ash Tyler._  

 _Request meeting before boarding Discovery._  

Hugh blinks, frowning. 

He hasn’t seen Tyler in months since the Section 31 operative beamed off at the end of his mission. What could he possibly want? Has the shadowy organization taken an interest in his and Paul’s project for some reason, or is it something else? And it says “lieutenant,” not “specialist.” 

Only one real way to find an answer, meet the man. 

Hugh sends a return message telling Tyler to come meet him here. Ten minutes later the door buzzer sounds, the man must have been very eager for that meeting. 

The Tyler that stand outside the door is different from how Hugh has ever seen him before. His hair is longer, far past his shoulders and gathered in a pony tail, while his full beard is in a neat, short trim. His eyes are the biggest change. While his posture is slightly stiff there’s a certainty in his gaze that Hugh hasn’t seen before. 

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside allowing Tyler to enter, and Tyler steps past him. 

“Do you want coffee, tea or something else?” Hugh asks, walking further into the room. 

The question seems to take Tyler aback. 

“I’m not staying.” 

“It’s common human practice to offer hospitality to guests.” 

“Um, coffee. Black.” 

Hugh gestures for Tyler to sit on the couch and goes to make coffee. 

Handing Tyler his coffee, Hugh wonders at his lack of reaction to the other man’s closeness. He still recalls the last time they were near each other, but it all feels like a distant dream. Or perhaps nightmare would be more correct. 

But then this Tyler appears very different, for all that it is the same man. 

Sitting down at the other end of the couch, Hugh props up one ankle on the opposite knee. 

“So, what does Section 31 want with me?” 

“Nothing, I think. I wouldn’t know. I left.” 

“They just let you go?” 

“I wasn’t a good fit.” 

Somehow that doesn’t surprise Hugh in the least. Tyler had always felt like an unlikely operative for that shadowy organization. He was, in a word, too honest. That, Hugh suspected, was why they the klingons used him, no one would ever truly suspect him and he had been left with a lingering impression that Section 31 had a similar motive for having him. And then apparently let him go when he ceased to be of use. 

Hugh can’t help but feel a slight twinge of sympathy for Tyler. 

“If you’re not here on behalf of Section 31, why are you here?” 

“I transferred back to Starfleet. They’re... getting me reacquainted with... things.” 

“Mmm.” 

“As part of that I've been assigned to the Discovery for a six-month tour of duty. I argued the point, but command was adamant.” 

“Sometimes command has its head up its ass.” 

Tyler gives a wry smile. 

“Or maybe they mean it as a test. To see how I’ll handle it.” His face grows serious. “I’m sorry.” 

Hugh takes a sip of his coffee and studies Tyler. For all that he still wakes up from nightmares about those hands around his neck, the feeling of his spine being snapped, there’s a marked lack of emotional turmoil. He had expected to feel something at seeing Tyler again, some form of agitation, something other than this quiet resignation. 

“I just, wanted to warn you. That I would be there.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I think I can handle six months.” 

Tyler nods. 

“In that case I’ll let you finish packing.” 

 

With only his clothes to put back into his bag and little enough of those at that, Hugh finds himself at the transporter room in ample time for the scheduled transfer to Discovery. Finding a quiet corner to wait, he watches the people that come and go, as well as watching the other crew members arrive. Rhys has a touch of fresh air about him, he must clearly have found a way planetside somewhere. Detmer and Owosekun arrive unselfconsciously holding hands, their fingers tangled together, smiling at each other and barely noticing anything else. Hugh feels a twinge at the look of their happiness and he keeps his distance, no reason to spoil their joy. 

Paul hurries in shortly before their timed departure, looking slightly flustered and tired. When he spots Hugh, he goes still for a second and Hugh feels stabbed in the gut at the sight, but then Paul smiles softly before walking closer and that’s almost worse. But before they can exchange words Hugh catches sight of Tyler also walking in. Maybe there’s something in his eyes because Paul turns his head and look back over his shoulder, freezing in place, his face angry.  

“Paul,” Hugh says stepping up to him. 

“What’s  _he_ doing here?” 

“He’s been assigned to the Discovery for six months as part of his return to duty. He let me know earlier,” Hugh continues. Looks like Tyler had not thought to warm Paul, though it is looking like he definitely should have. 

Paul shoots a glance at him, his eyes all fury. 

“And you’re fine with that?” 

“Yes, I think I can handle it.” 

“So, you’ll do nothing.” 

“There isn’t a whole lot either of us can do about it.” 

“I see.” 

Paul pulls away from him, steps around him and takes his position in the queue for the transport. All the while they wait, he refuses to turn and look in Hugh’s direction. 

Hugh had thought dealing with anger from Paul would be easier. It isn't. 

 

When Hugh returns to his cabin, he feels exhausted. By the time he had come over with the transporter Paul was long gone and he refuses to hunt him down. 

He tosses the bag on the couch. 

Part of him wants to drop into bed and sleep for a week, but his head is too full of thoughts for him to ever fall asleep if he tried it and he doesn’t feel like unpacking. Instead he pulls out Tracy’s gift from the bag and heads out again. 

 

He finds her at home in her quarters as he suspected he would, her shift having just ended. When she opens the door, she’s pulled off her uniform jacket, appearing only in the short-sleeved undershirt and pants. 

“Hugh! Welcome back. How was your stay.” 

“Good. Can I come in for a moment?” 

“Certainly. What can I get you?” 

“Nothing. I just dropped by to give you this.” 

He hands her the small, wrapped package containing the earrings. 

"Hugh, you shouldn’t,” Tracy says as she takes it. 

“I wanted to. It’s a thank you for being my friend, for putting up with me and sorry I’ve been such an ass lately.” 

She holds packet in one hand for a moment before carefully unwrapping it and opening the box inside, to reveal the delicate, droplet shaped earrings. 

“Oh Hugh,” she says, softly and hugs him with one arm. “They’re beautiful.” 

Hugh hugs her back. 

“For a beautiful lady.” 

She shoves him playfully. 

“You’ll make Marcus jealous at this rate.” 

“Tracy, if I weren’t gay, I’d try to steal you from him in a heartbeat.” 

She shakes her head. 

"Get out, you silly man,” she says, giving him another playful shove, this time towards the door. 

Laughing, Hugh steps back. 

“I can take a hint, I’m going. Say hello to your husband for me.” 

“Now I’m wondering if  _I’m_ the one who should be getting jealous?” 

Still laughing Hugh leaves, but as he walks back to his own quarters his smile fades as thoughts of Paul returns. 

 

He’s half done with unpacking when the door buzzer sounds. He’s happy for the distraction; sorting clothes and belongings is not providing much of a distraction and his thoughts are running in a circle as whether or not to seek Paul out and finish the argument or whatever it was, they were having earlier, or leave well enough alone to the next day. He opens the door immediately. 

Outside he finds Commander Burnham waiting for him. 

“May I come in?” she asks. 

“Of course, Commander.” 

Her shoulders are squared and her posture stiff as she walks by him. 

“I apologize for intruding before you’re officially back on duty, but I wanted to give you this at the earliest opportunity.” 

She hands him a small data disc.  

Puzzled, Hugh takes it. 

“What is it?” 

He watches in silence as she tries to start a sentence not once, but twice, before succeeding, noticing how her lower lip quivers a little. 

“As XO of the ship I’m informed of all ongoing projects, among them the long-term project that you and Lieutenant Commander Stamets are currently working on.” 

Her formal, almost overly correct tone surprises him a little but Hugh merely nods. 

“Seeing the general premise of the project I was surprised you had not requested any information from Vulcan academia.” 

“It felt,... invasive. The Vulcans have every right to not have outsiders pry.” 

She nods. 

“While I understand and appreciate your concern, not everything would be inappropriate to share. The disc I gave you contains the contact information of one of the priestesses on Mount Selaya, one of the adepts. She’s also an accomplished biologist and will know which is and which isn’t. Tell her I sent you. She... helped me as a child, after I died. She will know that it is not asked lightly.” 

Burnham falls silent again. 

“Thank you, Commander Burnham. I will do as requested. And thank you.” 

She seems about to say something more but then only nods once and steps towards the door, her whole body still tense. 

Mind grappling with impressions he doesn’t fully understand, Hugh follows her with his gaze. Just before she opens the door he says, “Commander Burnham. If you have any questions about our research, please feel free to ask.” 

She stops, half turns back towards him and looks at him, now something soft in her eyes. 

“Thank you Doctor Culber, I’ll remember that.” 

 

After she leaves Hugh sits down on his couch, bag and clothes forgotten, turning the disc she gave him over in his hands.  

There was something in her eyes, something longing, that she didn’t put into words. 

Or did she? 

 _‘She... helped me as a child, after I died.’_  

Burnham had been dead for three minutes as a child, something a human rarely returned from and certainly not with their full faculties in place. She had done so by means only available to a Vulcan and now had a connection to a Vulcan mind as a result. What had a Vulcan priestess been able to do for her, and what kind of answers would the human Michael need that Vulcans could not provide her with.? 

Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he had thought. Maybe no other had gone through exactly what he had, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others out there with similar experiences, who needed answers. Perhaps he was poking at a wound better left to heal on its own, but there was purpose still in what he was doing. If he could give something for all of it, surely it would be worth the price? 

He looks at the disc again, then around at the mess of his clothes. 

And life could be so fragile. Gone in an instant. What exactly was the purpose of leaving conflicts unresolved, when it meant that they might never be? 

“Computer, locate Lieutenant Commander Stamets.” 

There is a moment of silence. 

“Laboratory two oh fifteen.” 

Hugh smiles. Of course, that’s where he is. 

Picking up the data disc that Burnham just gave him, Hugh gets determinedly to his feet. 

 

The lab is empty this late, except for Paul, and nearly dark, only lit in a small circle where he stands at one of the tables reading on the screen of his computer. He looks up as Hugh enters, his gaze flickering away when he sees him before he turns away again. 

Hugh stops in his tracks, hesitant how to approach, if to approach at all, in spite of his intent with coming here. 

No, leaving now will only make things more difficult later. 

He pulls the data disc out of his pocket and braces himself to go up against Paul’s temper. When he’s two steps away from him Paul spins around to face him, locking his gaze with Hugh’s, his eyes unhappy. 

Hugh stops dead again, but before he can say anything or properly look at Paul, Paul begins to speak. 

“I’m sorry about biting at you earlier. It wasn’t you I was angry at. I just...” 

His voice flounders and his gaze flickers away again, his breath coming is short, barely audible pants. 

 _Oh._  

Not knowing what to say, Hugh reaches out and puts a hand onPaul’s upper arm. Paul nearly leaps at the touch, looking up at Hugh again appearing startled and surprised. 

Has he really been that hostile lately that Paul would be surprised at an offer of comfort? He has, hasn’t he? 

Clearly Paul was not the only one who needed to apologize. 

“Paul,” Hugh says, mouth suddenly very dry. “I- I’ve been frustrated lately, mainly with myself, and I’ve been taking that out on you. That wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.” 

Paul looks so surprised at his words; it cuts a little at Hugh’s heart. 

“Apology accepted,” Paul says softly. 

Paul is looking into his eyes again, the look in them soft and open, and Hugh desperately tries to think of something more to say. Then Paul looks away again and steps back, out of his grip, and the moment is lost. 

“What’s that?” Paul asks and it takes Hugh a second to realize that he’s referring to the disc in his hand. 

“Um, something Commander Burnham brought me. A Vulcan contact she thought we might find useful. And my excuse for coming here.” 

“You needed an excuse?” 

“I wasn’t sure how to begin a conversation with you.” 

Paul studies him as he leans back against the table’s edge, multiple feelings crossing his face too quickly for Hugh to tell them apart. 

“I was trying to find the courage to go see you,” Paul says so softly Hugh’s wondering if he’s talking to himself. 

“I’m here now.” 

“Yes, you are.” 

Paul looks down at the noses toes of his boots. 

“I was wondering,” he continues in that same, almost too soft tone. 

“Wondering what?” 

“If you would be. I saw you with... Patrick O'Rourke. The two of you looked happy.” Then abruptly he stirs. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.” 

“Paul.” 

“No really, I’m sorry I brought it up.” 

“I was,” Hugh answers regardless, the question that Paul haven’t hasn’t quite asked. He sees Paul flinch at the words but continues. “But it couldn’t last. It never would. Patrick and I... ultimately, we’re too different. And some differences can never be reconciled.” 

Paul makes a grimace at that. 

“And sometimes,” Hugh offers carefully. “Even though the old failed, something new can be build built out of it.” 

Paul looks up at him, slowly and cautiously. When their eyes meet it takes everything Hugh has in him not to grab hold of Paul and hug him tightly, but the man looks so guarded, so poised to run, that Hugh is afraid that any movement on his part might scare him off, so he restrains himself. 

“I suppose that is possible, sometimes,” Paul finally says after the longest pause, then he looks back on his still lit screen. “Really all of this can wait till tomorrow,” he continues slowly and Hugh sees how he tenses up. Not sure what’s going on, he remains silent.  

“And I’m hungry,” Paul goes on, his voice suddenly determined. “Have you eaten yet?” 

“No.” 

“Care to join me?” 

Hugh feels his heart leap in his chest. 

“I’d... love to.” 

Paul reaches over and turns off the computer. 

“This way then,” he offers with almost excessive gallantry. “I have no idea what’s on the menu tonight, but I suppose we’ll find out.” 

 

His cabin feels almost deathly quiet when Hugh returns to it after the meal and having bid Paul goodnight. Even more so in the light of the animated conversation they’d shared. He had completely forgotten what that felt like, with Paul, how much he’d treasured the times they’d talked. More so during the war, when their different schedules and the constant pressure on Paul to get the spore drive operational and then utilize it made those times rare as diamonds. 

While Paul was more subdued than Hugh recalled him being, he was also livelier than Hugh had seen him since his resurrection. It felt good, hopeful, and a lot less awkward than he’d feared it might. And Paul’s presences had not felt like it tilted him dangerously on his axis. 

Suddenly the silence in his cabin feels oppressive, deafening. 

“Computer, play music. Anything.” 

He recognizes instantly the aria that begins to play. A sad, yearning mezzosoprano giving voice to her grief for a lost love. Not one of his favorites, but still a lovely if painful piece. 

Hugh closes his eyes and listens, truly listens, to the music, and lets the anguish and sorrow of the voice and the words wash over and through him. 

How long since he’s done this? How long since he even played music. 

Eyes still half closed, he makes his way to the bedroom, pulls off his boots and lies down on the bed., He folds his arms behind his head and focuses fully on the music. 

And for the first time since he returned from the dead, he feels quite calm. 


	7. Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me

Hugh is still in uniform and slightly out of breath for having rushed, when he enters dr zh’Vahri’s office five minutes late. 

“Sorry I’m late. There was a gas leak on the lower engineering deck, about a dozen people got a lungful of acidic gas and I had to stay and help.” 

“I understand. I hope everyone was alright.” 

Hugh nods. 

“Yeah. Some will be having sore throats and chests for a few days and two were kept for observation, but no permanent damage.” 

“Speaking of appointment times, at least indirectly, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” 

“In what way?” 

“You’ve been showing marked improvements on all levels and I was wondering how you’d feel about cutting back on our sessions? Maybe once every other week for a start to see how is goes?” 

It isn’t till now Hugh realizes how much he’s been relying on these appointments to get him through each week. A tether of sorts in his life. He isn’t sure how he feels about loosening that tether. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course. We’ll only do it if you feel that it’s right for you, but I wanted to bring it up.” 

Hugh nods. 

“How have your week otherwise been?” she asks. 

“Quiet. Mostly,” he replies, before finding himself at a loss for words.  

After several false starts Thelthaa prompts him, “Is there something that haven’t been quiet?” 

“Just the usual. Sickbay can be intense at times, it isn’t that.”  

“Then what?” When he still doesn’t answer she after a moment adds. “Or who?” 

“Paul. It seems to be coming back to him a lot lately, doesn’t it?” 

“How are things with him?” 

“That’s part of the ‘quiet’. We... we’re friendly. We work together, we usually have dinner or lunch together. Or both. He listens, a lot, but-” 

“But what?” 

“He doesn’t say a lot about himself. He’s fine with me talking, even encourages it, but he rarely says anything about himself.” 

“The secrecy bothers you?” 

Hugh shakes his head. 

“It doesn’t feel like he’s being secretive. More like...” 

“Like what?” 

Hugh takes a deep breath. 

“I’m not sure if he trusts me or not. When I say he isn’t talking about himself, I don’t mean his interest.” Hugh laughs a little. “He’s developed a strange interest in late 20th century detective stories if you can believe that. I've heard more bizarre murder mysteries than I ever really wanted to, but he loves them. No it’s... what’s going on inside him. He's so clearly fighting with a lot, but he never talks about it.” 

“And you’re worried that it’s because he doesn’t trust you?” 

“Yes. I can hardly blame him if he didn’t. I hurt him. A lot.” 

“And he hurt you, but you have no problem confiding in him now?” 

“No, but... Paul was always the more closed off of the two of us. It feels in some ways like he’s even more so now.” 

“Have you brought it up with him?” 

Hugh shakes his head. 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I think, I may be afraid of what the answer is. And if I can handle it if he tells me he doesn’t.” 

“And have you considered alternatives? To Paul not trusting you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And?” 

“Maybe he simply isn’t ready to talk yet.” 

“And which of these two do you find the more plausible explanation?” 

“And which one is my fears talking, you mean?” 

She looks at him and raises one eyebrow. 

“There is one very obvious solution to this you know?” 

“Yes. Talk to him.” 

“Where do you intend to go with this?” 

“This?” 

“Paul. Your relationship with him.” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Because at one point you were ready to break it all off. You told me you felt  _you_ couldn’t trust  _him_  to be, or rather become, what you need in a relationship. So what changed?” 

“He did. I did.” 

“In what way?” 

“He’s... more attentive, I guess. It isn’t that he doesn’t get absorbed but... This is hard to put into words. It used to be that when I looked at him, I could see the... silhouette of a man inside of him, but he hid that part of himself from the world for some reason. I wanted to reach him. And sometimes, I could. Now that shadow... it feels like it, he, is taking on a more solid shape, no longer hiding away.” 

“And you?” 

“I realized this isn’t one-sided. I did and said things I shouldn’t have. There were times I should have been clearer with him. Made it more obvious what I needed. Realized that he was trying to meet me halfway sometimes. Like when he needed to mentally retreat , decompress, and couldn't talk to me, but was still trying to give me his company by being in the room with me. But I didn't realize what it was he was doing then.” 

Hugh sighs softly. 

“Just, a lot of little things,”  he finishes. 

“What do you want to do now then?” 

“I think I want to try again. If he does.” 

 

After eating a later than usual lunch, Hugh decides against heading straight down to his and Paul’s lab, instead taking a brief nap in his own cabin, the session with Thelthaa had taken quite a bit out of him. 

He wakes from it feeling slightly groggy and not at all rested, but still heads down to the lab. 

When he steps in, the first he sees are the two young ensigns, both science division, that’s been allocated to help him and Paul with the preliminary groundwork. They’re standing behind the furthest desk, staring at the corner to his left. Turning his head, he’s met with the sight of Tyler all but back into a corner by Paul and though he can’t see Paul’s face he can practically feel wintry temperature around him. Tyler’s head is held high, his eye glaring and his jaw set. Neither man seem to notice him or anything else in the room. 

“What’s happening?” he asks, stepping closer. 

Tyler’s eyes flicker away from Paul to him for an instant before returning, Paul doesn’t seem to even hear, and when Tyler takes a step in Hugh’s direction, edging around Paul, Paul immediately cuts him off. When Hugh reaches them, he puts a hand on Paul’s shoulder. That gets Paul’s attention and he looks at him, the look in his eyes almost makes Hugh take a step back. He’s seen Paul angry before, that cold, frozen look in his eyes, but he’s never seen his eyes like this, two chips of ice. 

“Paul,” he says, but before he can go on Paul tears out of his grip and stomps over to a desk by the far wall. Out of the corner of his eye Hugh sees Tyler begin to relax. 

“I can tell I’m not welcome,” Tyler says prim tone, pulling at the sleeve of his uniform. 

“That’s to put it mildly,” Paul interjects frostily. 

“So I’ll see myself out,” Tyler finishes before making a hasty exit. 

For a second Hugh considers going after him, get some coherent explanation for what just happened, Paul will certainly not bear talking to for a while, but he doesn’t want to leave the two ensigns alone with Paul, not in the mood he’s in. 

Instead he crosses the room to the two ensigns who are trying to look terribly busy on their datapadds and almost jump when he approaches them. 

“Yeoh, Martìnez, what happened?” he asks softly. 

Yeoh is the one to speak first. 

“Lieutenant Tyler came in; I think he was looking for you. Commander Stamets saw him and... he got quite angry.” 

Hugh pulls a grimace. Going by what little he’d seen, calling Paul ‘quite angry’ was an understatement. 

“What happened then?” 

“They argued. And then you came in. It hadn’t been that long.” She says the last bit almost surprised. 

He considers pressing for details, but he doesn’t want to push their loyalties. He knows Martìnez gets along well with Tyler and Yeoh is becoming one of Paul’s favorites, it could split their friendship.  And he can get details elsewhere when he needs them. 

“Okay,” he says. “I think you’ve done all you can here today. Call it a day and take some time off.” 

They both give him a grateful smile before hurrying off. 

As they leave Hugh studies Paul’s turned back, the precise movements with which he sorts through the datapadd and –cards, the sharp click with which they’re put down. He’s angry alright. 

“Paul,” he says, stepping closer. 

“Not now.” Paul’s voice is frigid, the diction precise. 

“Okay, but I’ll be right over here if you want to talk.” 

The only response is a curt nod. 

 

The afternoon passes in complete silence except for the sounds of Paul rooting about. More than once Hugh considers making another attempt at starting a conversation, but each time he’s dissuaded by Paul’s stubbornly turned back and rigidly held shoulders. 

After several hours Paul suddenly slams on padd hard enough into the table’s surface that Hugh is sure that its casing must have cracked. 

“Would you just leave,” he says frostily, back still turned. 

Hugh slides off his chair. 

“No.” 

Finally Paul turns to face him, his eyes still icy. 

“No?” 

“Mmm. This lab is as much mine as it is yours, if you have an issue with me either address it. Or you leave.” 

For a second Hugh thinks Paul may just do that, storm out the door. Then his eyes zero in on Hugh again. 

“As you wish. What’s your relationship with lieutenant Tyler?” 

What the hell was Paul on about? 

“He’s a security officer on board this ship, that’s it.” 

“And you’re really okay with that? Him running around free.” 

“What happened wasn’t his fault, Paul.” 

Paul throws his hands in the air, turning away, but not before Hugh sees the flash of hurt. 

“Oh no, Paul. You’re not doing this.” 

“Doing what!” Paul barks. 

“Using me as a shield for your own feelings. What happened? My death? It hurt you as well as me. I know that.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve seen that,” he adds more softly. “But admit, at least to yourself, that what you’re feeling is about you, not me.” 

“ _Of course it’s about you!_ ” Paul half turns back to him, yelling, before spinning away again. But his shoulders are stiff anymore, they’re shaking, and his gasping, shallow breath is almost deafening in the silence of the lab. 

Hugh walks around his table, approaches Paul, reaching out with one hand, but Paul pulls back. 

“Please don’t.” 

“Let me help you.” 

“You can’t.” 

“Why?” 

His breathing raspy, Paul sits down on a nearby chair, still half turned away from Hugh. The light catches in a single tear as it falls to the floor. 

“I’m not leaving unless you tell me to.” 

Paul covers his eyes with one hand, his shoulders still silently shaking. 

“I see you,” he says, his voice ragged and low. “So many nights. Lying on the floor. I hold you in my arms. It felt like dream then too and... I can’t tell the difference when I wake.” 

“I’m right here,” Hugh says, closing the distance between them. 

“But you’re not, are you?” Paul is looking up at him now, eyes shining with tears. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re not... you. Him.” 

“You’re right I’m no longer who I was, but I’m also... me. It’s confusing, it confuses me too, but I’m right here, Paul.” 

He holds out one hand to Paul and after a moment’s hesitation Paul takes it. His palm is dry and soft, his fingers strong as they grip Hugh’s hand. 

The silence stretches between them as Hugh can see Paul trying and failing to find words, while being no better off himself. 

The sound of the door opening interrupts them. Quickly, almost like by mutual agreement, they let go of each other. Hugh turns to face the intruder, positioning himself between Paul and the door as he turns. 

Standing just inside the door, as ever looking slightly awkward, stands Tilly. 

“Yes, ensign. What do you want?” 

“Um, commander Burnham want to see you both in the Ready Room. She tried calling down but you weren’t answering.” 

Paul clears his throat. 

“I’m sorry, Tilly. I silenced it earlier, I didn’t want to be disturbed. Tell her we’ll be there in a minute.” 

“Okay, sir.” With a quick, ‘Doctor Culber’, in parting, she vanishes out the door. 

Hugh turns back to Paul. 

“If you need some time-” 

Paul cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

“No, just let me drop by a bathroom up there and I’ll be good. Better see what she wants, the good commander does not like to be kept waiting.” 

He jumps off the chair, but Hugh can tell that the lightness is false. 

 

Burnham is in the Ready Room when they get there, standing at the far wall. Near her stood lieutenant Linus, Commander Nahn and Tyler. 

Paul freezes in place beside him, the moment he and Hugh walk in. Hugh stops one step later. 

“Commander Stamets, Doctor Culber, glad you could join us.” 

“My fault, Commander Burnham,” Paul says, walking towards her again, but Hugh can hear the strain in his voice and notices the deliberate manner in which he doesn’t look in the direction of the other three people in the room. “I’d silenced the comm relay.” 

She acknowledges Paul’s apology with a nod and a small smile. 

“Since we’re all here now, we can begin. If you would all take a seat.” 

Nahn, Linus and Tyler all sit down along one side of the long table in the room, after a moment Paul sits down at the opposite side of the table, in the corner furthest from Tyler. Hugh takes the chair next to him while Burnham stands at the end.  

She calls up a map of a star system. 

“This, is the star system HD 24924934, more friendly nick named Magus Draconis.” 

Tyler snorts. 

“Someone was feeling dramatic,” he mutters. 

“Likely,” Burnham responds with a smile before continuing. “Little less than three years ago a sister ship, the USS Copernicus, did a fly by survey of it. Analysis of the data indicated that the second planet is habitable, with rich flora and fauna, while having no intelligent species as far as scans have been able to determine. The system’s asteroid belt and outermost planet is rich in minerals. Now Discovery have been tasked with having a closer look at the system.” 

“Why us?” Linus asks. 

“Because we are a science vessel, classifications and examination of star systems is part of what we do. And because we’re one of the ships currently closet to it. It’s less than three days travel from our current position, we’re a bit far out.” 

“Discovery will make more in-depths scans of the outer planet and asteroid belt, while a survey team will beam down with me for a closer look at the planet. The team I’ve assembled consist of you, is that going to be a problem?” 

Her gaze travels from Tyler who shakes his head, to Hugh. 

Hugh tries to think of something to say that won’t be a lie and won’t attract attention to Paul, that maybe this isn’t the best idea, when Paul interrupts. 

“No, Commander. It won’t.” His voice is sharp and precise, but it carries no chill in it. 

Hugh looks askance at him but Paul is looking straight at Burnham. 

“Good Commander. Doctor?” She looks at Hugh again and all Hugh feel he can do is shake his head. 

“Well then, I’d like you all to over the next three days familiarize yourself with the data already collected on the system before we beam down. If there are no questions at the moment?” 

There’s a general murmur of negatives. 

“In that case, dismissed.” 

Paul is out of his chair almost before her last word. Hugh lingers a second, considering talking to Tyler, but deciding it can wait hurries after Paul. 

The man isn’t running down the corridor, not quite, but he’s walking faster than Hugh can ever remember him doing. 

“Paul,” he says when he catches up to him. 

Paul immediately slows his pace and Hugh falls into step beside him. 

“It’s just about time for dinner, wouldn’t you say? Care to join me in the mess hall?” 

There’s a brittle note in Paul’s voice that keeps Hugh from doing anything but nod. 

They fetch their dinner and sit down together, and Hugh tries to think of a way to broach the topic of Tyler and the upcoming mission. 

“Paul,” he says cautiously. “If you don’t want to excuse yourself I could-” 

Paul cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

“Didn’t you say just earlier today not to use you as a shield?” 

“I meant from yourself.” 

Paul looks up at him from his food tray, studying him so intensely Hugh almost start squirming under his gaze. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. “But let me try and think this through first.” 

Hugh nods. 

“Just know I’m here if... you need to talk.” 

With a brief nod in return Paul turns his attention to his food and thoughts once more. 

After they finish Paul still haven’t said a single word, but when Hugh begin to stand, to return his tray, Paul puts a hand on his arm, holding him back. 

“Let me,” he says. “And I’ll get us some coffee. Or do you want something else?” 

“Coffee is fine.” 

Hugh let Paul make off with both their trays, watching him as he crosses the room. Paul clearly wants him to stay, even if he didn’t want to talk. That is progress isn't it? 

Paul returns with their coffees, his own black and Hugh’s with milk. He settles into his thinking face again, remaining silent and Hugh leans back and sips his coffee, waiting for Paul to say or do something. 

“Burnham likes him,” Paul says out of the blue. Hugh’s own thoughts had been so far away that it takes him a second to realize that it has to be Tyler he’s talking about. 

“She does.” 

“She’s generally very discerning of character.” 

“She is.” 

Paul falls silent again for a few moments. Hugh can’t help a smile. Considering how much he hated Burnham at first, Paul had grown surprisingly fond of her. Or maybe it wasn’t. His dislike of her had been less about her and more about Lorca, and Burnham was intelligent, resourceful and straight forward, three things that generally made Paul like a person. And remarkably kind and gentle too, beneath her Vulcan ingrained control. In fact, she's not entirely unlike Paul himself.

No, maybe Paul’s growing fondness of her was less surprising than at first glance. 

“She smiles more when he’s around.” 

“Mmmm.” 

Paul puts down his cup, staring at it disgruntled as if it alone bore the responsibility for his current problems. 

“I don’t think I’ll make any more headway in this tonight. I’m going to head to bed.” He looks up at Hugh. “Thank you for keeping me company.” 

“Any time.” 

They take their cups and return them to the replicator, before leaving the mess hall. 

When they reach the door to Paul’s cabin, Paul looks at him. 

“Do you want to come in for a moment?” 

“Sure.” 

Hugh looks around as he enters. Paul has moved to new quarters too, said that they ones they’d shared felt too big for one person, though Hugh has wondered if it didn’t also have to do with the memories tied to them. This is the first time he sets foot inside Paul’s new ones. 

They’re much as he expected. A sweatshirt casually tossed on the couch, a blanket lying folded at one end, and datapadds and cards strewn across the table, very little in the way of decoration. Like him, Paul never had much use for physical possessions. 

“Hugh, I know that you’re trying to help,” Paul says without preamble. “But you can’t.” 

Hugh swallows. Part of him have actively been avoiding having this conversation, but that’s not an option any longer. 

He just nods, there’s nothing to say to that. 

“Not right now,” Paul goes on. “I need- I need to sort this out in my own head first. Before I can talk to you.” 

“Okay.” 

“But I appreciate you being here. You may not believe me when I say this, but that helps. I don’t want you to go away. I haven’t wanted to bring all of this up, because I didn’t want you to leave.” 

“Paul, I’m only leaving if you tell me to.” 

It isn’t until Paul relaxes it strikes Hugh how tense his whole body looked. 

“Thank you.” 

He smiles wistfully. 

“That was really what I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t want to have this conversation in the corridor.” 

Hugh nods, giving a tiny smile of his own. 

“Goodnight then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight, Hugh.” 

 

Hugh's heart is hammering as he comes awake, his skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. His dream is already fading, even the vestiges of the memory of it fading too fast from him to retain them. But still, in the low light, his bedroom maintains a touch of liminal space, neither real nor false all at once. 

He closes his eyes again, but that only makes the feeling worse, so he rolls out of bed, but neither his normal methods of cool shower or music helps either. A quick look at the clock shows him it’s only a little past 0500 ship’s hour, early, but not too early for breakfast and maybe eating something will help. 

The mess is all but empty, here between shifts, only a few early birds and a couple that is off nightshift early there. One of them is Paul, looking about as bright and lively as Hugh feels. 

He sits down next to him, saying nothing. 

“Are you okay?” Paul asks, looking up from his scrambled eggs. 

“Nightmare. I- I can’t shake the feeling that nothing is quite real.” 

Paul holds out his hand and Hugh takes it. Putting down his fork, Paul slowly runs his other hand up and down Hugh’s lower arm. 

“We’re both right here. We’re very much real right now.” 

Hugh nods, forcing a bite of orange down, hoping the sour taste will help. 

“You’re up early,” he says. 

“Haven’t really slept.” 

“You kinda do look like it.” 

“If that’s your way of telling me I’m getting old, let me tell you I feel every one of those years right now.” 

“No, I just meant you look tired.” 

He considers asking Paul if he reached any conclusion to his issue, but decides against it, remembering what Paul had said the evening before. When he’s ready, he’ll talk; best thing Hugh could do for the moment would probably be to let the matter rest. 

They talk about nothing in particular as they eat, Paul can make an impressive amount of more or less irrelevant small talk when he cares to. Between that, the touch and the food, the liminal feeling of the room begins to recede. Instead Hugh is left with a splitting headache, but that is still much preferable in his opinion. 

“Thank you.,” he says. 

“I’m happy I could help.” 

“I’d better go to sickbay. Might as well make an early start of the day.” 

Paul studies him out of the corner of his eye. 

“What?” Hugh asks. 

“Are you sure? I just... You don’t look very good still.” 

“I have something of a headache. It happens sometimes, afterwards.” 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you went to lie down for a bit? There’s still a couple of hours until shift change.” 

“I... don’t want to be alone right now.” 

He knows the feeling isn't rational, but after an episode like this he always fear the return of the feeling and company helps distract himself from that worry. 

“I could stay with you? If you want it.” 

In spite of the growing headache Hugh feels warm. 

“I would like that.” 

 

Paul haven’t been to Hugh's rooms either before now. By the time they get there Hugh’s head feels like it’s splitting, lying down is certainly needed. As are painkillers. 

Paul sits himself on the couch as Hugh grabs a couple of pills and swallows them. He drops down on the edge of the bed and pulls off his boots, every movement suddenly an effort, before lying down with a sigh. 

Lying down help, but though he can hear Paul move around on the couch in the room outside he can’t see him, and the distance feels far too great. 

“Paul,” he calls, the sound of his own voice making his head throb. 

Paul appears in the doorway and Hugh waves him closer. Paul sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Do you want me to stay in here?” he asks in a low voice. 

Hugh nods and even that small movement make him wince. 

“I just didn’t want to presume.” 

The bed isn’t a double bed, but it holds both of them easily enough with a bit of shifting. Hugh lies curled up on his side, Paul propped up against the bed’s headboard, a pillow behind his back and a padd lying in his lap.  

Perhaps Hugh would have found the silence awkward had he had enough energy left to care, instead he’s lying still with his eyes closed, hoping the painkillers will be able to take at least the top off the headache. His thoughts are drifting and so far away, that at first he doesn't notice Paul’s fingers when they begin caress his shoulders and the back of his neck. 

“Paul?” 

The hand stops but doesn’t pull away. 

“You looked tense. I thought it might help.” 

“It’s... nice. Please don’t stop.” 

The hand resumes its slow wandering and Hugh lets his mind focus on the abstract patterns it draws. 

 

The bed is warm and soft, but he’s fully dressed and lying on top of the covers, so it takes a moment for Hugh to realize where he is and why. The next thing he notices is Paul, still half sitting, half lying, on the bed. 

Hugh rolls onto his back and look up at him. 

“Feel better?” Paul asks. 

“Yes. Headache's gone. Thank you.” Hugh rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “What time is it?” 

“Nearly 1400.” 

Hugh bolts upright. 

“Don’t worry. I called sickbay and told them you wouldn’t be there. I thought it better to let you sleep, now that you could. Pollard said that unless there was an emergency, she wouldn’t be needing you today. So I let you.” 

“I- Thank you. I really did need that. But you must be starving by now." 

Paul blush faintly. 

“I had Tilly bring me something a couple of hours ago. I’d promised I’d stay and didn’t want to leave you. There are some sandwiches for you out there too.” He points out to the living room. 

Hugh smiles. 

“Paul, you’re a prince among men.” 

Finding himself ravenous he wolfs down two of the sandwiches. 

“Did you get some sleep too?” he asks. 

“No. I’ve been thinking.” 

“Reached any conclusions?” 

Paul shakes his head. 

“I know you said you didn’t want me to interfere, but if you need me to the offer still stands.” 

“Thank you. But this is my problem.” 

“That doesn’t mean it has to be yours alone.” 

Paul gives him a look Hugh can only call speculative. 

“I’ll consider that. But I have an appointment with zh'Vhari tomorrow, maybe I can sort through it then.” 

Hugh nods slowly. 

“Just keep it in mind.” 

“I will.” 

 

After Paul leaves Hugh decides to finish his shift. He knows he technically doesn’t have to, but he wants to catch up with the events of the day. 

“Should you be here?” Tracy asks him when he walks in. 

“I’m fine. Now. Paul told me he called you?” 

“I half expected you to be more dead than alive hearing from him like that.” 

“No, just a headache. A bad one, but nothing more. But he looked after me.” 

Tracy gives him a dubious look. 

“He’s changed,” Hugh says. 

“Must have.” 

Her words come back to him later in the day when he’s alone, because she has a point. The old Paul, the Paul Hugh had once lived with might have offered to stay but he’d have been restless the whole time. And that’s assuming that Hugh’s state had been pointed out to him, because he would have been very unlikely to have noticed it on his own. Yes, Paul had indeed changed. 

 

He doesn’t see Paul at all the next day. When he goes to their lab, he isn’t there and Yeoh and Martìnez tells him he hasn’t been there at all. Hugh briefly considers locating him before he recalls what Paul had said about an appointment with dr zh’Vhari. He knows all too well how exhausting those can sometimes be and how little he would feel like dealing with anyone afterwards, so he decides to let Paul have some peace if that’s what he wants. 

Still at the end of the day he drops by Paul’s cabin just to check on him. At first Paul doesn’t answer the door buzzer, nor the second time but Hugh while debates whether his concern for Paul’s safety should override Paul’s right to privacy Paul does open the door. 

He looks worn down to the bone and Hugh aches to reach out and hug him, but there’s also a distance there that keeps him back. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the lab today,” Paul says. “I just-” 

“You don’t have to apologize. I just wanted check if you were alright.” 

“By some definition of that term I suppose I am. I just, would rather not talk right now.” 

“Okay. Have you eaten anything?” 

“Not since breakfast.” 

“Then I’m fetching you something. Starving won’t improve anything.” 

A tired smile appears on Paul’s face for an instant. 

“Doctor’s orders?” 

“Yes.” 

The meal Hugh puts together consists of salmon omelet,  vegetable soup and bread, easily digestible, nourishing and with some taste, but without being overwhelming. Paul should be able to keep down some of it. 

Paul silently opens the door and lets him in when he returns. He puts the tray on the dinning table. 

“You don't have to eat all of it, just as much as you can.” 

Paul smiles tiredly. 

Hugh begins to turn to leave when Paul interrupts him. 

“Hugh,” he says softly. 

Hugh stops, turns back and looks at him, waits for him to continue. 

“Would you… stay a little while?” 

“Of course.” 

“And…” 

Hugh keeps still, waiting again, watching as Paul struggles to find the right words. 

“Hold me?” 

“Of course,” Hugh answers, stepping forward and holding out his arms. 

Paul tentatively closes the distance between them and steps into Hugh’s embrace. Hugh gently wraps his arms around him, letting one hand caress Paul’s back while the other cups the back of his neck. Paul is rigid at first, his arms awkwardly wrapped around Hugh, but slowly he begins to relax and leans in against Hugh. 

They hold on to each other as the minutes tick by, Hugh unwilling to be the one to let go and Paul continues to keep hold of him. Finally, Paul straightens a little in Hugh’s arms. 

“Thank you,” he says, stepping back just enough that he and Hugh can see each other. 

“Any time.” 

“Would you... mind staying a little longer? While I eat?” 

“Of course not.” 

He settles down at the table along with Paul. 

“Would you prefer it if I remain quiet?” 

Paul shakes his head. 

“Tell me about your day.” 

Hugh does his best to recount the day’s event. It feels rusty, unpracticed. How long has it been since he did this? 

He knows if he thinks closely, he could probably put a date to it. Before he died, just before Paul went into a coma. 

He pushes the thought away. This isn’t the time or place for regrets. 

Paul eats as Hugh talks, occasionally smiling at one anecdote or other. When he’s done, he stares regretfully at his tray. 

“Well dear doctor, does that satisfy you?” he asks with a tiny smile. 

Hugh feels a twinge in his chest. 

_Did Paul realize what he’d just called him?_  

He says nothing about it, but smiles best he can. 

“Trust me Paul. It might not make you feel better, but at least you won’t feel worse either.” 

“I bow to your medical expertise.” He sighs. “I suppose we should call it a night then?” 

“I could stay longer, if you want me to?” 

There is a moment’s pause where Paul studies him intently, then he shakes his head. 

“We both have a job to do tomorrow. Best get some sleep.” 

“Okay then. I’ll take this back to the mess, shall I?” 

Paul nods and they bid each other goodnight. 


	8. But Let Me Start by Saying...

Hugh spends the morning doing a final review of the scan data of the planet before heading down to sickbay to stock up on medical supplies for the mission.  

Tracy looks up as he enters. 

“Here I thought I'd be free from seeing you today,” she says in a teasing tone. “Don't you have an idyllic planet to beam down to study?” 

Hugh laughs. 

“Yes, the idyll of unknown parasites, strange venomous flora and fauna. And let's not forget the possibility of deadly pathogens no one has ever been infected by before and therefore with undetermined prognosis. Sheer heavenly bliss.” 

Tracy nails him with an amused stare. 

“And you love every moment of it, don’t try to deny it. You never know what to do with yourself when you go too long without a challenge. That part of you haven't changed one bit.” 

Hugh laughs again, there is no other possible answer to such a truthful judgment of his character. 

“I'm only here to stock up my medkit in the chance I have to deal with any of the aforementioned.” 

When he leaves again, having done as he said he would, Tracy wishes him, “Good luck with the deadly pathogens”. 

 

In the transporter room he finds all but Tyler already present. Burnham and Nhan are speaking quietly to one another in one side of the room as is Paul and Linus in the other.  

Paul smiles when he sees him. Smiling in return Hugh joins them. 

“Doctor Culber,” Linus greets him. 

“Lieutenant.” He turns to Paul. “You both looked entertained, what were you talking about?” 

“Ranthos IV,” Paul says with a grin. 

Remembering that unmitigated disaster and Paul’s role in it, Hugh chuckles. 

“I'm amazed you'd ever admit to being on that trip.” 

“Well it did teach me the importance of having my shots up to date. Not to mention the value of having a doctor along no matter how peacefully appearing the planet is.” 

“We started out discussing possible hazards of the mission,” Linus says. 

“And Paul began relating old anecdotes I see. Though I thought you'd have told him about that time in the asteroid belt of Tedrianes.” 

“That one really should be told by you, I wasn't there for half of it. And certainly not for the best part of it.” Paul gives him a feral smile. “More's the pity.” 

Paul's eyes lock on something behind Hugh and his smile suddenly goes stiff for a second. Hugh doesn't have to turn to know that Tyler just stepped in. But apart from that one moment of freezing, Paul remains calm, though he feels reserved and a little distant after as Burnham rounds them up and they beam down. 

 

The planet is indeed idyllic.  

The landscape they beam down to consists of rolling hills, covered in long grass filled with blooming flowers in a riot of colors, along with low scrubs, no higher than their knees, clad in dark green oblong leaves. In the distance can be heard the rolling of waves from the nearby ocean. 

Burnham split them in two groups, herself, Linus and Tyler to head towards the ocean, while he, Paul and Nhan will head inland. 

“This place does look pleasant, doesn't it?” Paul says as they begin to walk. “Though with all respect Commander, I'm not sure what your role is on this trip. I think the biggest fauna down here is on the size of an Earth field mouse.” 

Nhan smiles. 

“Security officers are never happier than when we're useless. Sort of like doctors in that I guess.”  

She looks at Hugh as she says the last part, but all Hugh feels he can do is shrug, the words Tracy said to him earlier still too clear in his mind. It isn't that he wants people to get hurt, but living the life they do, doing the job they do, it will inevitably happen. And he does thrive on the challenges of facing and overcoming the unknown. 

“And it's a nice day for a stroll,” Nhan finishes. 

 

They begin to walk inland taking scans as they go, Paul taking the lead, Hugh following close on his heels and Nhan bringing up the rear. As they walk across the open landscape Hugh notices she begins to lag behind, never so far that she can see them but enough that she is far out of earshot of normal conversation. 

Cresting yet another of the hills the sight of a beautiful valley is revealed beyond, nestled between this hill and the next one. The grass is filled with red and yellow flowers and a narrow river cuts through it, running towards the ocean. 

Hugh looks over at Paul. The man is standing quite still, tricorder hanging forgotten in his hand as he takes in the view. Hugh laughs good-naturedly at the sight. 

Paul turns to look at him. 

“Care to share your source of amusement?” he asks lightly. 

“I’m not amused, more... pleased.” 

“The source of your pleasure then?” 

“You. It used to be that I would have to fight you to get you to drag your attention away from the tricorder in a situation like this. You have changed. I know you have, but it’s moments like this that I notice it.” 

Paul shrugs and smiles, and begins to make his way down the hill. With a quick look behind to see Nhan still following at a distance he heads down as well. 

“What happened?” he asks, when he catches up to Paul. 

Paul’s smile falls away and Hugh almost regrets asking, and when he looks at Hugh there’s grief in his eyes. 

“You died.” 

Reflexively Hugh reaches out and puts a hand on Paul’s shoulder. Paul puts his hand over Hugh’s, holding it in place. 

“And I regretted so many things,” he goes on. “Mostly that I hadn't really tried to see the world that you were always trying to show me, everything out there. So I tried. It made me feel better.” 

Hugh brushes his fingers over Paul’s shoulder in small rubbing motions, without dislodging Paul's hand. 

“I even started listening to opera.” 

“Really?” 

Paul smiles, a bit sadly but it’s a smile. 

“Ask Tilly about it.” 

With a pat to the back of Hugh’s hand Paul lets go and steps back, Hugh letting his hand fall to his side and they continue towards the river. 

“I think I understand that aria,” Paul continues when they reach it. “The one I used to hate. It's… sublime.” 

Now it is Hugh's turn to smile. That was not a word he ever expected Paul to use and certainly not about opera. 

“What I don't understand is how you can look at something this beautiful,” Paul goes on, indicating the river, the lake and the surrounding hills. “And believe in a cruel and uncaring universe.” 

Hugh shakes his head. 

“I don’t. You’re working from a false base premise.” 

Paul frowns, tilting his head in question. 

“Enlighten me.” 

“Saying that the universe is cruel or uncaring implies that it is capable of care and compassion. It assumes agency on the part of the universe, or the existence of an all-powerful being that has such agency. But such a being does not exist and the universe is no more capable of caring than a forest fire or an earthquake is.” 

“But how do you reconcile that, with this,” Paul asks, gesturing to their surroundings. 

“This? It's life, it exists for itself and to perpetuate itself. Any beauty or purpose there, is the one we make. There is nothing higher, nothing more, than us. What is what makes all of this, and us, so much more important.” 

Paul reflects in silence on his words for a while. 

“So what do you see when you look at this?” he finally asks. 

Hugh takes a moment to consider his answer, because Paul doesn’t appear to be asking idly. 

“Beauty. Endurance. Fortitude. Pain. Hardship. Joy. Comfort. Bliss. I see  _life_ , Paul. In all its variety and majesty, its tenaciousness and fragility.” 

There is a long silence after that, Paul simply looking at him, though Hugh almost see how his mind is working to put these things together. Then a quick grin appears on his face. 

“Opera,” he says. 

 The non sequitur makes Hugh blink. He is used to Paul's leap of logic and most times can follow, but not this one. 

“You've lost me,” Hugh says. 

“That is why you love opera so much, isn't it?” Paul says, with a tone of someone who’s just resolved an important question. “It's the life in it.” 

“Yes,” Hugh says with a smile. 

Paul's gaze flickers away, his smile fading and his face now uncertain. 

“Speaking of that, opera I mean,” he says, sounding breathless. “I never did get to take you the way I promised.” 

“No, you didn't,” Hugh replies softly, unsure where the conversation is headed all of a sudden. 

“Maybe,” Paul goes on, his voice hesitant. “Sometime when we're both off duty… I could?” 

Hugh finds his heart beating wildly in his chest, not quite believing what he’s hearing, and his mouth suddenly gone dry. 

“You could… be my date?” he offers tentatively, then hurriedly adding, “If you want to?” 

Paul breaks into a bright smile. 

“I do,” he says, reaching out and taking Hugh's hand. 

Paul's fingers are slightly cool against skin and Hugh can feel how the hand is shaking a little. Or maybe that's his own. Looking into his eyes Hugh feels a burst of joy in his chest and he long to step forward and wrap his arms around Paul, but something about the way Paul's posture makes him hold himself back. 

Then Paul takes a deep breath, his smile fading again. 

“I know there are things we both need to say,” he says. “But can we wait until we're back on the ship, alone, before we do?” 

Though Paul does not look in Nhan’s direction Hugh is suddenly all too aware of the fact that they have an audience, a distant audience that is doing her best at the moment to study the local avian wildlife, but an audience all the same. 

“Of course,” he says. 

Paul sighs, sounding slightly regretful, before they let go of each other’s hands. The he shakes himself and looks briskly at his tricorder. 

“I suppose we had better get back to work then,” he says. “And give the poor commander a chance to look at something else than the birds.” 

They continue their survey scans, Nhan still trailing after them but closer now. Hugh falls back a bit to join her. 

“Your discretion was appreciated Commander.” 

She gives him a smile. 

“I'm used to dealing with delicate diplomatic situations and you two have off all the signals of needing space.” 

“I'm not sure I would call this a ‘diplomatic situation'.” 

Her smile widens. 

“Those comes in all shapes and sizes, and not all of them decide the fate of planets. But all of them decide the fate of people. So a good security officer quickly learns when it is time to hang back and let diplomacy run its course.” 

 

They make a wide circuit back to the rendezvous point, their journey taking them along the river’s bank. As they walk Paul keeps straying close to Hugh, much closer than necessary, his hand often casually brushing his arm as they go. 

When they reach the rendezvous again Burnham is already waiting there, along with Linus and Tyler, the three of them talking companionably. Hugh sees Paul stop for a second out of the corner of his eye, but only for a moment, before continuing. 

“Welcome back,” Burnham says when she sees them. “We were beginning to wonder if we needed to send out a team for you?” 

“I promised I’d keep an eye on them, Commander,” Nhan says. “Have I ever failed you?” 

“No, Nhan. You haven’t.” She shifts her attention to Hugh and Paul. “You have everything?” 

“Everything we can get in one brief trip yes,” Paul says. 

With a nod she pulls out her communicator.  

“Discovery, six to beam up.” 

Back in the transporter room, Tyler bids a hurried farewell to Burnham and Linus before leaving. 

Stepping off the pad Paul turns to Hugh and hands him his tricorder. 

“Would you mind uploading the data for me? I’ll go through it myself later but I need to talk to lieutenant Tyler.” 

Hugh takes the tricorder hesitantly, debating whether or not to ask Paul if that’s a good idea. But Paul looks if not at ease then at least composed, so Hugh simply takes the tricorder and nods. 

 

Hugh spends a good twenty minutes staring at his own data, barely able to work on it, worrying that maybe he should have said something, or gone with Paul, before Paul shows up in the lab where Hugh, Burnham and Linus are working through the scan data from their survey. 

Offering them all a small smile and a quick apology for the delay Paul steps up to the other side of the console that Hugh is using, Hugh studying surreptitiously. He looks tired, even worn, but oddly victorious and peaceful. Reaching out across the console Hugh puts a hand on Paul's arm. 

Paul looks up, meets his eyes and smiles again. 

“No need to worry Doctor, I’m fine. No permanent injuries, except perhaps to my pride. Having to apologize is never a good feeling.” 

He gives Hugh’s hand a squeeze before gently pulling his arm away and bringing up his data on his screen. 

Paul so clearly do not want to elaborate so Hugh lets the matter drop, returning to his own work and finally making some headway. 

 

Linus is the first to leave, closely followed by Burnham to Hugh’s surprise as she is usually the last to leave and Hugh trails her with his eyes as she exits the lab.  

As the door shuts behind her Paul chuckles. 

“What?” Hugh asks. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen her quite that eager before,” Paul says still chuckling. 

When Hugh still looks puzzled, he elaborates, “She has a date.” 

“Who?” 

He knows he’s been preoccupied with other things and his knowledge of crew gossip is more out of date than usual, but he’s normally several steps ahead of Paul and he find it a little disconcerting that Paul knows more for once than he does. 

“Let’s say that she still has a thing for security officers.” 

Hugh frowns. The relationship between Burnham and Tyler have struck him and friendly and cordial, but that any passion had long since worn off. So which security officer would it be? 

“Nhan,” he says in sudden realization. 

“Yes.” 

“Where did you hear that tidbit?” 

Paul blushes slightly. 

“I have my sources.” 

Hugh chuckles as the pieces fall into place. 

“Tilly.” 

“Yes. She can be very enthusiastic about sharing her friend’s happiness.” 

The lab is quiet with only the two of them there. 

“How about we wrap this up too?” Hugh asks, himself now feeling impatient to spend some time alone with Paul, in private. “Since there’s no one to keep us here?” 

A strange look flickers over Paul’s face before he smiles again. 

“Yes. Lets.” 

“Do you want to come to my cabin, for a cup of coffee or something?” Hugh asks as they leave the lab. 

Paul nods, looking tense and as they walk down the corridor Hugh can feel the silence between them taking on an almost physical weight with the words that is still left unsaid between them and he wishes he could hold on to the simple happiness of earlier. 

 

When Hugh opens the door to his cabin Paul steps through first, then turns around and faces him as the door closes behind them, words already forming on his lips, but Hugh cuts him off. 

“Please, before either of us says anything, can I hold you?” Hugh asks, the desire to simply have Paul in his arms again an almost physical need. 

Paul’s face grows soft and he steps up to Hugh gently wrapping his arms around him. Hugh hugs him back far more fiercely, burying his face at Paul’s, just holding on to him and the feeling of him. Meanwhile Paul’s hands slowly and methodically run up and down Hugh’s back. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against Paul’s neck. 

Paul pulls back just enough to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“For asking me. For being willing to try again. That evening, after we came back from Starbase 16. I knew that I could make a life of my own, but that I didn’t want to. I wanted you. But I wasn’t sure I could have, that you wanted that too.” 

Paul’s hands come up to cup Hugh’s face, thumbs running over his cheekbones before he leans forward and plants a brief kiss on Hugh’s lips. Hugh can feel that he’s shaking as much as he himself is. 

“I was always yours,” Paul says. “From the moment you sat down beside me in that café. I never wanted to be anyone else’s. It frightened me. It still frightens me.” 

Hugh looks at him with a worry that he knows is clearly displayed on his face. 

“Let me explain,” Paul says, leading them to the couch and sitting them down when Hugh nods. Paul lets his hands slide down Hugh's arms to take his hands when they’ve sat down. 

“You,” Paul says quietly. “You’re someone who steps up and embraces the world. No matter what. Even after you came back, with everything you had been through, that was what you tried to do. I watched you from afar as you fought. I thought at the time I was giving you what you wanted.”  

He squeezes Hugh’s hands in his own before continuing, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask, that I wasn’t there when you needed me. You were right to be angry with me for that.” 

“I’m not sure it would have mattered,” Hugh says softly. “That it would have made it better for me, or for us. Maybe we would just have ended up hurting each other more.  I don’t have any answers. I just know I’m sorry for what I said to you that night and I’m glad you haven’t lost your trust in me for it.” 

Paul smiles wistfully, running a comforting hand down Hugh’s thigh. 

“No. I wasn’t good but... good things came of it. If not for that night maybe I would never have gotten the push I needed to get moving myself. You see, I hide. From the world, my failures, even myself. It’s a way to avoid getting hurt, but it’s not really a life is it? Always stepping back, deflecting?” 

Paul pulls a face and Hugh lifts one hand, reaches out and puts it on Paul’s cheek, still holding on to Paul’s with the other. That gets him a little smile. 

“That’s why my feelings for you always scared me a little. You made me want to see the world and that frightened me. Then you died and I regretted all those times where I should have gone with you out into the world, but hid away instead. I tried to change that as a way of... remembering you I guess, but then you were back and I didn’t know how to act. I was so afraid of losing you.” 

Paul looks down at their joined hands. 

“And then I did lose you. Again. That night we fought. And I realized that... I could spend my life hiding away, or I could step out and embrace the world the way you do, let go of my need for control, no matter how much it scared me. Still scares me. With or without you.” 

He takes a deep breath and looks up, meeting Hugh’s eyes. There’s fear there, and hope, and a reflection of the gentle heart Hugh fell in love with that day in the café, that he has fallen for over and over again.  

“I done with hiding, but I want to see the world  _with_ you.” 

Hugh shifts his hand, let it slide down Paul’s neck to rest between his shoulder blades, his heart near bursting. 

“There’s so much to see Paul. And I want to show you all of it. I want to experience all of it, with you.” 

Moving falteringly Paul brings up his hands to rest on Hugh’s shoulders. 

Hugh pulls him close, lets one hand cup the back of Paul’s neck. 

“I love you, Paul,” he says, wanting more than anything to simply relish the moment, their closeness, but knows that there are words that he needs to say, that Paul needs to hear. “I never stopped. But for a time... that feeling was too big for me to handle. I think I needed that space, that time, to sort through things, find out what I wanted. I’m not done sorting through things, but I know I want you to be part of my life. In every way. That I want a lifetime with you.” 

Paul smiles at that, an open and honest smile, filled with both joy and sorrow, and so much hope, his eyes blank with tears. Hugh feels an unwinding of something deep in his chest, his own gaze blurring briefly with tears. 

There is no telling who moves first, perhaps because they answer is both, as they lean forward, meeting halfway in a kiss, arms folded around each other in a comforting embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we're at the end. More or less.
> 
> I'm marking the fic as completed because we can leave them here, kissing and holding each other. But I'm half planning a fluffy coda, because these two deserves some softness and happiness. Still that "chapter" isn't strictly speaking necessary for the fic so the completionists can have at it now.  
> The astute reader may at this point have realized that every title, including the fic title itself, are lines from songs. If you can guess them all you win bragging rights.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. It's been an emotional ride for me, but on the whole a fulfilling one.  
> Thank you for taking the time to read it.


	9. Saved the Best for Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That final, fluffy bonus chapter I talked about. Because they both deserve that.

As the weeks passes their lives change entirely yet not at all. 

By mutual agreement they both keep their own quarters. They still have a need of a place where they can go and shut out the whole world when it gets too much, including sometimes each other. But on most days they are in and out of each other's quarters that Hugh privately wonders if the rest of the crew find their separate living arrangement puzzling. 

In it all Hugh has only one regret. In spite of their constant growing closeness they have still to spend a night together. 

 

Sighing deeply and suppressing a groan Hugh archives the last of that day's patient records. Everyone else on his shift have already left, the night shift having taken over the patients still remaining in sickbay. 

The day had turned hectic when Discovery had a run-in with an anomaly and part of the crew had been subjected to intense radiation during the event. Everyone of the were now recovering well, but for most of the day all had been the intense, structured chaos of disaster management. 

He had sent Tracy home as the first, conspiring with her husband Marcus that he come pick her up, because Hugh knew there was all too real a chance that she would stay the night otherwise, monitoring the recovering patients. Regardless it had taken some convincing from both men to get her to leave. 

Logging out of the database Hugh smiles warily at the sound of Tracy's voice in his head, “ _Now who's overworking themselves?_ ” 

“ _Shush_ ,” he mentally  tells her . “ _I’m leaving now._ ” 

Bidding the night crew goodbye, he heads off and makes his way to the residential deck rather than recreational. He’s not in the mood to deal with a crowd after this day. But neither is he in the mood to be alone, so instead of heading to his own cabin he makes his way to Paul’s. 

It is quiet and dimly lit when he enters, clearly Paul is having a longer day than he. Deciding to wait for him Hugh drops down on his couch, pulls off his boots and makes himself comfortable. Without meaning to drifts off to sleep. 

He snaps awake again at a sudden brightening of the light, heart leaping in his chest. 

“Shit, sorry,” he hears Paul say as he pushes himself upright, groggy with sleep, calming his racing heart by reminding himself where he is. “I didn’t realize you were here asleep; I’d have snuck in.” 

“Paul it's your home,” Hugh says as he sits up. 

“Perhaps, but I still would have preferred to have let you sleep.” 

Hugh rubs his eyes. 

“I didn’t intend to sleep at all. I just lay down to wait for you and... dozed off. Guess I was more tired than I thought. What time is it?” 

“A little after 1900. If I’d known you were waiting for me, I wouldn’t have stuck around in the lab so late.” Paul says, walking around to the back of the couch, putting his hands on Hugh’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. “You’re tense, rough day?” 

“Mmmm, you heard about the radiation incident?” 

“Yes, must have been hectic.” 

“Was for a bit. All cases had a happy ending though,” Hugh says, sighing softly. Paul’s hands feel wonderful on his shoulders. 

“Take off your jacket, let me see if I can work out these kinks.” 

Hugh does as bid, tossing the jacket on the couch beside him and lets Paul get to work on his shoulder and neck, letting his head drop back against Paul’s stomach. 

Paul’s fingers work, firmly and adroitly on his muscles, teasing out the tension of them. 

“There,” Paul says as he finishes, letting his hands rest still on Hugh's shoulders while leaning forward and planting an upside down kiss on his lips. “Better?” 

Hugh smiles. 

“Perfect. Thank you.” 

Paul gives his shoulders a quick final rub before letting go. 

“Have you had dinner yet?” Paul asks. 

Hugh shakes his head as he stretches luxuriously. 

“No, I came straight here. But I can go get us something. I’d rather eat in private if you don’t mind.” 

Paul puts a restraining hand on his arm as he makes to get up. 

“Let me?” he asks. “This time.” 

There's a look in Paul's eyes that gives Hugh a slight pause. 

“Why do I get the feeling that you have a bigger scheme going on asking that?” 

“Perhaps because I do?” Paul says looking very innocent. 

“What are you planning?” 

“A surprise. Though one I think you'll like.” The he adds after a moment. “If you’ll let me?”  

Hugh laughs, shaking his head. 

“Why not. Surprise me. But do I have time for a shower first? I could do with one.” 

“Absolutely,” Paul grins, giving him a gentle push towards the shower before disappearing out the door. 

Hugh quickly and efficiently strips off the rest of his uniform and steps under the showerhead, letting the hot water wash away the last remnants of the day’s stress. Usually after a day like this he’d have lingered there, relishing the heat, but he’s curious about what Paul is planning and he doesn’t want to be “late” for whatever it is. So after a quick clean-up he turns the water off, dries himself and borrows Paul’s robe from the hook. It’s a bit tight over the shoulders and arms, but a well enough fit still. 

When he steps back out into the living room, he’s met with the overhead lights turned all the way down and the cabin being lit almost exclusively by candlelight. The dinner table has been laid out for a grand meal and soft jazzy music playing low in the background. Paul stands next to the dinner table, dressed in his undershirt, looking very nervous. 

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“That I feel I should have dressed up for this,” Hugh answers. 

Paul shakes his head and steps forward, taking Hugh’s hands in his, tangling their fingers. 

“No, you should be... right as you are.” 

Hugh can feel his face heat up. 

“Thank you. Can I ask why?” 

He’s frantically searching through his memory if there’s an anniversary date of some sort he’s forgotten all about. 

Paul smiles softly. 

“Because I love you. And I want you to know that.” 

Joy bursts in Hugh’s chest and he pulls Paul close, cups his face with both of his hands and kisses him tenderly. 

“I do know that,” he says when he pulls back, his fingers running across the back of Paul’s head, caressing his hair. 

Paul gives a lopsided smile. 

“Doesn’t hurt to repeat it now and again.” He cast a glance back at the table. “Though I may have gone a little bit overboard.” 

“It’s fine. Let's eat.” 

Paul steps over to the table and pulls out a chair for him and laughing Hugh sits down. 

“You can be quite gallant when you want to,” Hugh laughs. 

Paul sits down across from him smiling and shrugging. 

The conversation during the meal is lighthearted, skipping between topics with practiced and familiar ease, the music still playing softly in the background. During desert the soft jazzy tunes changes into something dance worthy and with a quick grin Hugh gets to his feet, inclines to Paul, holding out his hand. 

Paul takes it hesitantly and lets Hugh pull him to his feet. 

“I’m not sure I know the steps to this one. It’s a bit more advanced than I’m used to,” he says. 

“Then let me lead.” 

Paul gives a small grin of acknowledgement and puts his hand on Hugh’s shoulder and takes his hand, letting Hugh put his on the small of his back. 

The cabin is small, allowing little room for fancy moves, still they make a good effort of it, Paul attentively following Hugh’s steps.  

The tune ends and the music changes once again, this one much slower, requiring little in the way of actual steps, so Hugh pulls Paul close and wraps both arms around his waist while Paul lets his arms rest around Hugh’s neck.  

On an impulse Hugh leans forward and kisses Paul, nipping his lower nip gently before brushing his lips softly over his. Paul gasps softly against his lips, excitedly reciprocating. When they pull away from each other Hugh finds himself a little breathless and Paul has a soft blush on his cheeks. 

“How would you feel if I... stayed tonight?” Hugh asks, wanting this, the night and Paul’s arms around him to never end. 

The soft smile on Paul’s lips freezes and falters. 

“Hugh I know we haven’t really talked about having sex. I know I haven’t brought it up on purpose,” he says, his fingers drawing anxious patterns on Hugh's shoulders. “Because I hoped that... it would solve itself before it became an issue.” 

Hugh gently rubs Paul’s back as he talks. 

“I’m not sure I’m ready,” Paul goes on. “I do want you and part of me wants to but... I guess I still haven’t really found the mood yet.” 

“Paul, it’s fine. We’ll wait till whenever you’re ready,” Hugh says, still running his hand up and down Paul’s back. “But that wasn’t what I was asking though I can see why you thought that and I would have said yes if you were willing. What I meant was, how would you feel if I stayed here, just to sleep. I miss falling asleep beside you and waking up with your arms around me.” 

He feels the tension slowly leak out of Paul’s body as he speaks and the smile returns. 

“Oh. In that case, you’d be more than welcome to.” Paul’s hands have grown quiet once again, lying still on Hugh’s shoulders. “I’ve missed that too.” 

Hugh kisses him again, slow and sweet. Paul melts into it and Hugh can feel his smile against his lips. When he pulls back Paul lets his hands gently caress Hugh’s face. 

"We didn’t finish desert,” Paul says. 

“Let it keep,” Hugh answers. “I’m not quite done dancing with you.” 

He pulls Paul as close as he can, Paul stepping in willingly, so close that their chests touch and their cheeks rest against each other, the two of them swaying gently in time to the music. 

“How do you feel?” Paul asks, his voice low. 

“Ridiculously happy,” Hugh answers, smiling as buries his face in Paul’s shoulder, enjoying the feel of being here, holding him. The feeling of simply, being alive. 


End file.
